Dances with Devils
by Gliblord
Summary: The crew has just reunited after 3D2Y, but a hermetic cult of Satan worshiping endtimes elitist misfits have quite the human sacrifice scheme in store for our lovable Straw Hats-masterminded by a sinister and mysterious figure from Sanji's past.
1. Luck of the Devil

**DANCES WITH DEVILS  
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**Chapter 1:**** Luck of the Devil**

"Is everybody hanging on tight?" asked Franky, as a giant bird from a faraway island blocked the sun overhead and cast a deep shadow over the assembled Marine vessels.

"Ready when you are!" Nami gave the okay from the helm.

"All right!" The ship began to thrum and vibrate. "You're about to taste the romance of a SUPER cyborg for the first time, and it's going to blow your tops! SUPER COUP DE BURST!"

Luffy stretch-hugged his comrades close to his side, gums flapping so violently he was forced to gulp down balloon-fulls of air, and little Chopper flew into his mouth, stretching out his head so it seemed like he had antlers.

"GRRRMM!"

"Nami!" wheezed Usopp, whose face was smushed uncomfortably close to Luffy's crotch since he flew into Luffy's arms upside-down.

Nami nodded and clambered up over Brook to slap Chopper out of Luffy's throat.

Brook opened his mouth, doubtless to wax lyrical on the splendid serendipity of Nami's panties, but Zoro gave him a stoical glare: the last thing we need is an agitated Nami.

"Pah!" Chopper emerged, gasping for breath in Nami's hands. "Holy...What have you been _eating_, Luffy!" he spluttered.

"Shishishishi. Oh you know, tiger meat, gorilla meat, leopard meat, crocodile meat... uh... did I say gorilla meat?"

Usopp's nose twitched. "Stuck on an island of nothing but wild animals, eating nothing but meat, and never taking a bath. I guess that explains that mystery."

"His stench isn't bothering you, is it, Robin-chwan?" huffed Sanji, who, regrettably, was back-to-back with her in Luffy's arms.

Robin was typically inscrutable, but from the look on her face she was none too fond of the current situation. "Franky, when are we going to level off?"

Franky was frantic pushing buttons and toggling switches at the wheel as Sunny sailed across the skies so fast, the Junior Division of the Saobody Marine Detective Corps would spend grueling nights interrogating a mindless Pacifista over his involvement in the second suspicious escape of the Straw Hat Pirates from the archipelago before they would be debriefed in full by the top brass.

"Right about now!" he yelled over the rapid whooshing, and indeed the ship was reaching the apex of its trajectory.

"Great job, Franky!" Luffy enthused. The future Pirate King launched his neck over to one side and sank his teeth into the railing so that he may survey the great waves of freedom. "This is so awesome!" came his muffled cry of joy.

"All in a day's work," Franky grinned. "Or two years' work, I suppose. By the way you can let go of everybody now."

"Oh. Yeah." Luffy relinquished his death grip hug, to a chorus of relief.

"Amazing!" cried Brook, clasping together his bony phalanges together in awe. "Gorgeous! That sun! It's so close I could-"

"Get a tan?" Chopper interjected.

"…Cure my rickets!" Brook came up with a new punchline on the fly. "YOHOHOHOHOHOHO! Skull jooooke!"

Sanji watched the smoke of his cigarette whip away behind him. He too had missed that stupendous sensation, of flying recklessly towards the sun, just like that kid in that storybook who dreamed too big. He didn't know if he was lucky, to be a pirate for whom blasting off at breakneck speed for miles above the crashing blue had been commonplace enough to get nostalgic over. But he did know one thing: he would have to hold the hair over his right eye now, lest the wind expose his… ahem.

"Not for nothing, but this is quite some ship you've built here, Franky," said Sanji. "She's so sturdy. I feel like I can rely on her no matter what."

"Yeah, it's not bad at all," said Zoro, in a rare moment of agreement. Which he ruined in no time with: "I bet I could slice it up though."

"She's Adam Wood, baby." Franky affectionately patted his ship with his huge cybertronic hand, in between bouts of guzzling cool fizzy cola. "Aaaaah. No other material like it. Not even crashing down from this high up will put so much as a scratch on her SUPER hull. So you can forget about your smacking your silly sticks against Sunny having any effect-besides exhausting those wimpy little arms, of course." Franky popped off his sunglasses and grinned at Zoro provocatively.

To which Zoro, without a word, picked up Franky and began to do curls with him. Naturally the whole crew exploded into a frenzy of laughter.

"Bye everybody!" screamed Usopp, holding on to his hat and waving sayounara over Sunny's stern. He knew full well Heracles couldn't hear him, as they were all already out of sight… but he waved anyway. Chopper soon joined him.

"Robin-chwan, could you conjure up an eye in the aquarium? I forgot how many salmons I managed to keep alive in there." Back on the job after two years, Sanji felt as natural as ever, and was already thinking of dinner.

Robin closed her eyes. "Seven," she said. "No, eight."

"And… how pink are they?"

"…Not very."

"Shit. I knew it was too manly in here, what with this idiot walking around like he's the king. Of Retardia," he clarified, pointing at the marimo. Zoro ignored this.

"A fish that loses its flavor…"

"…Based on 'manliness,' yes."

"Where on earth?" Robin started.

"So what else would you like for dinner, Robin-chwan?" said Sanji, desperate to change the subject. "I've still got tons of—"

"If you'd just let me go fishing earlier, I could have carried aboard a way bigger haul than you've got stocked in the aquarium," said Zoro, unruffled.

"What is it with you and fishing all of a sudden, is it because you're a marimo or–"

"FOOD!" Luffy zipped towards Sanji so instantaneously he could have sworn he'd shifted gears for a split second. The drool cascading down Luffy's chin at the stimulus of the word "food" escaping Sanji's lips rather flattering… if gross.

"Luffy, Luffy, Luffy," he shook his head. "Now that I've honed my culinary skills, I'm going to have to cook with more finesse than ever. That means no slobbering over my workplace and absolutely no touching ingredients as they're being prepared. Is that 100% clear?"

"Sure! Now let's GO! Ugwa!—"

Sanji held Luffy back by the collar. "I don't believe you."

Luffy pouted and scrunched up his fists, imploring: "But I understand now! Two straight years without your food… I'm dying for it, Sanji! Make me some meat NOW!" Luffy decreed. "Please!" he added, as an afterthought.

"Then do you promise not to inhale my dish in two seconds?"

"Yeah, no problem!"

Sunny had reached the zenith of her trajectory and she would soon begin to drop down. Before they knew it, they would be touching water once more. Sanji used the temporary lull to light another cigarette, while holding Luffy by the chin.

"Let me rephrase that," he said sternly. "Do you solemnly promise not to inhale it in under two seconds? No, Luffy, look me dead in the eyes and say it. Say it. Ehm, dead in the eye," he corrected, patting down the hair over his right eye some more.

Luffy looked him dead in the eye and took a deep breath. He could do this. His brows furrowed. Sweat began to drip from his every pore, and he gleamed shinier than in Gear Second.

"U-Usopp, I need you to tell Sanji something!" he shouted, hands cupped over his mouth.

But Usopp just doubled over guffawing at Luffy's utter inability to lie.

"Wind's sort of weird today…" said Nami, more intuitive than ever. "Sunny's going to careen starboard, so move to port, everyone!" she ordered.

"We'll be heading inside, Nami-swan. All right wise guy," said Sanji, now grasping Luffy by the cheek, "I'm going to teach you how to savor your meals. Let's get to the kitchen and pound some manners into this meat head of yours. I'll bring back some snacks, everybody!"

"I'm so glad you're the real Sanji!" Luffy beamed. "That other one was boring." He nodded sagely. "And he smelled like bad perfume, yuck."

Sanji started up the stairs, carrying Luffy in tow. "This ought to shut your mouth. Actually come to think of it I ought to sew your mouth shut between meals…"

"Whoa, you know how to sew now?"

"…Shit."

"Shishishishishishishi!"

Mere minutes after Luffy and Sanji left for the kitchen, Sunny splashed down tumultuously, and almost sank deep enough under the surface to prematurely activate the coating mechanism. As soon as each Straw Hat's wits returned and they picked themselves off the floor, Nami set to work using her new climate baton to reinforce Sunny's jelly coating, applying just the right number of bubbles precisely as Rayleigh had instructed her. Meanwhile, Sanji got Luffy talking about Rayleigh and his training in order to distract him from the fine aroma of filet of gorilla emanating from the skillet (which thankfully triggered a nostalgic response in Luffy that outmatched even his most gluttonous urges.) It wasn't exactly actively teaching Luffy to keep his grubby hands off, but Sanji would have to settle for even the most minimal of baby steps for now, and distracting Luffy with discussion of the good old days would suffice.

Luffy clapped his sandals in his seat. "…And that's how I got that giant cheetah to agree to fetch my lunch for me every afternoon. Old man Rayleigh was pretty impressed."

"That is pretty impressive. How big are we talking again?" said Sanji, absently scrubbing his cutting board under the running water of the sink.

"Little Garden big," he said, stretching his arms out a little to each side. "Strong World big. HUGE."

"Acha, the memories," Sanji schmoozed, somewhat dreamily, as he slipped on his oven mitts and knelt down to check on the various confections baking in the stove. "Come to think of it, that haki would have really come in handy back in Little Garden, considering it was essentially just dumb luck we managed to get our hands on an Eternal Pose. Otherwise we would have been stuck waiting for the regular log pose to set for an entire year, remember?"

"Oh yeah! That was the island where Mr. San painted candles and, and that little girl exploded, right? And Zoro had a tea party...?"

"…Close enough," said Sanji. The smell of the cookies was snapping Luffy back so he elaborated on to keep Luffy distracted. "And if we had been stuck there for a year, that bastard Crocodile would have become the invincible tyrant of Alabasta and Vivi would be dead. Can you imagine?"

"Huh. Wow." It was beginning to dawn on Luffy just how lucky they'd been all these years.

"Not only that, but Skypiea would have been completely decimated by that humongous thundercloud had that psychopath Eneru decided to fly off and deliver that lovely final hurrah before we arrived. Forget a desert kingdom, two whole civilizations, just _annihilated, _with nary a trace of their existence surviving-not to mention the good name of Montblanc never cleared. And you were the only guy who could stop him! Just think about that. Makes me wonder how many more people we could have saved from various calamities if we had still been streaking across the Grand Line these two years," said Sanji seriously.

"Well, I think in the end people have got to look after themselves and their own families,' said Luffy. "Lots of times when people get beat up it was them who picked the fight in the first place; sometimes you've just to go with the flow and follow destiny. And besides, I've never wanted to be a hero anyway. I help who I want and that's it."

"I don't think I've ever heard you speak so eloquently, Luffy," said Sanji.

"It's what Shanks told me, so yeah. Actually no, that last bit was Rayleigh… uhhh… Who said what again?" Luffy regarded the ceiling and crossed his arms, a bit confused. Then the confusion rolled off as the smell of the cookies got sucked up into his nostrils. "By the way, what are THOSE!"

Sanji spun on his heels that very fraction of a second and brandished his butcher's knife at Luffy's wandering hands just in the nick of time. "They're for the others, Luffy. You just wait for your filet."

Luffy shoves his hands in his pockets and whistled unconvincingly.

"We're a family, right?" said Sanji, sprinkling light dashes of oregano on the gorilla meat with one hand and chopping onions with the other hand. "Sharing is what families do. Food. Struggles. And whatnot."

"You're right!" said Luffy; with this extremely simple insight the rubber pirate's own philosophy—which he, of course, was not aware he held—expanded significantly. "Where did you learn that?"

"Nowhere." Sanji arranged neat baskets of each batch of cookies.

"Oh come on, you still haven't told me about your two years! I know you're trying to hide something…" he said, narrowing his eyes to slits of suspicion.

"I was on a very normal island with normal folk who taught me some fantastic recipes," said Sanji. "Grilled panda shark, crabcakes a la mode…"

"Who's the liar now, huh? Idiot," said Luffy. "What about that okama who winked at you then?"

Sanji blanched. He hadn't expected Luffy to be so observant.

"Don't be a liar, like those fakes from before!" Luffy continued, almost pontificating, as though he was enjoying being on the intellectual high ground for once in his life. "Family should be honest, right? Whatever happened before, it doesn't matter now…. Unless you're a bad guy."

Sanji withered. Luffy defeated him in a battle of wits. "All right, all right, I'll share…

"You should share. Everyone should share!" Luffy jumped to his feet on the counter, hands on his hips.

"Later," Sanji promised. "Everybody will share. Now shut the hell up."

Luffy was about to say something, but Sanji ditched the plate and utensils altogether and simply pulled Luffy down and shoved the filet into Luffy's gourd. Luffy was mollified and munched with unmatched zeal for Sanji's cooking.

"I'm lucky I found you as my chef!"

"I'm lucky you're my captain," said Sanji. "Even if you're an idiot."

Luffy laughed, and then belched.


	2. The Sacrifice Scheme

**Chapter 2: The Sacrifice Scheme**

**EARLIER THAT VERY MORNING**

_The blinds drew up instantly with two snaps of mother's fingers. Light flooded the stately bedchambers of the Princess and Heir of the_ Saintly People's Kingdom of Castena Cacao_._

"_Ugh…" Fasmidi shielded her eyes._

"_Up." With a firmness belying her aristocratic poise, Notona (Her Majesty the Queen) threw off her daughter's carefully arranged sheets, though careful the triple-coconut Alberina family crest woven in the quilt didn't touch the floor._

"_Mother, it's been a year," Fasmidi moaned, dragging her sheets back on. "A whole year. Enough lousy psychiatrists."_

"_Young lady, you are eighteen already and you have an important appointment, and, and you are an enterprising and vivacious daughter of the three hundred seventy seven and a half year dynasty of Alberina and you will. Get. Up!"_

_Fasmidi rose up, rubbed her eyes and glanced at the grandfather clock by her bed in a daze. "Oh, it's only half past ten. Better get my beauty rest." And she plopped back down._

_Notona paused and betrayed a brief flicker of dismay; but no, she must get a hold of herself. This was her final recourse._

_She removed her glove and raised her hand. Glad her daughter wouldn't see her biting her own lip before the sting._

_She trembled, trembled as she had only once before, on that terrible night when Wieder…. Her blush reddened with each second, her hand hovering over her only child's cheek._

_But. She couldn't. Just couldn't. There wasn't a violent bone in Notona's body._

"_Oh Fasmidi," the queen cried at last, sitting by her bedside and stroking her face like an absent-minded cat owner as she spaced out. "It's not about our image, Fasmi. I just want what's best for you. And this, this melancholy you've seen fit to trap yourself in, it's not healthy! I know you think you're fine, I know you think you've moved on, but you've got to just let it all out, and I know that once you have you'll be the bright and sunny and responsible young woman I raised. So, can you do it for me? Please, just hear the man out."_

"…_Who is he," Fasmidi answered at last, opening her eyes. Her eyes were still groggy and grumpy and… somewhat dead… but she thought she could see there was the lingering ember of the Fasmi she knew there, and so a modicum of relief broke over Notona's face. Though naturally she hid it by gazing away towards the grandfather clock._

"_Never mind that, you're late, he's coming in a half hour and knowing how long you take you'll have barely strapped on your corset by then. Come on, up!" _

_She shook her leg to a muttered "Five more minutes." _

_Then Notona sighed and, casting forlorn glances left and right as though she might be caught at it, she flicked Fasmidi on the head._

"_Ow! Mother!"_

"_I apologize, dear," she said with apparent horror at the consequences of her own playful whim. "But, but you really must—"_

"_Fine, fine…" Fasmidi said. "Besides, ever since Wieder I haven't been so frail."_

_Notona didn't know whether to smile or frown at that. She settled for her usual grim, worried sort of half-smile._

"_Oh, and don't think you'll be escaping my swift retribution after this, either," Fasmidi said, motioning to flick her mother's head._

_To this Notona smiled genuinely. "Then I'll have to fit my crown on as protection until you forget, now won't I? All right, I'll leave you alone to your diabolical scheming. Hurry up and don't take forever in the bathroom. And I'm sorry but forget breakfast today, honey; Nana Reba and the rest of the maids will cook you a nice big brunch instead, doesn't that sound nice?"_

_No answer. And so Notona swept away through the threshold and closed Fasmidi's bedroom door behind her._

_Alone now, finally. She gagged at the thought of having to sit through yet another new-fangled "psychotherapy" session with some dull, self-important and overconfident egghead who didn't and couldn't understand the first thing about her._

_Her reflection in the mirror echoed her disgust. Just looking at herself in this form caused her some measure of anguish; dark rings under the eyes and her long purple locks all disheveled and swung out of whack. Her true self, the side of her forever burning to be unleashed, harbored no such beauty issues. But right now she seemed terribly under the weather when she really didn't feel as awful as she looked._

_She needed leaves, that was all. Nutritious, delicious leaves._

_The reading room, their makeshift therapist's office. _

"_Mr. Orel Klopp," read the business card._

"_Please, if you would lie down on the couch, Princess," said the fidgety, fast-talking old man. "And technically that's 'Dr.' Klopp, but of course I would be honored even if you simply referred to me as Orel; I have nothing but the utmost respect for the Alberina family and your father and I have recently made acquaintance over the most wonderful session of crumpets and tea on the Isle of-"_

_She tuned it all out, and plucked the potted bonsai adjacent her couch, enjoying her fill of leafy feed as he admired the chandelier and droned at length about whatever stirring adventure he'd enjoyed alongside a father she barely knew or cared to know._

"…_So. To get down to business, as they say." Dr. Klopp himself sat on his swivelly chair, wiped his bifocals and dipped his owl feather quill, pad at the ready. "Tell me about what happened with poor Herr Wieder."_

_Here we go again, she thought._

"_Nothing. We were engaged for around five months, and one night while he was entertaining me with his martial arts and trying to teach me the karate chop for the umpteenth time, he suddenly choked up, keeled over and... Let's just say it wasn't pretty. The physicians say it was poison; I'm inclined to agree. Probably a political assassination, over God knows what—you know how hairy it's been getting these days, what with that poor noble from Yipra catching all that frightful press after his own son turned coat, and aristocrats from all over the world getting picked off before their prime for some cheap anarchist's kicks. Someone—a self-styled revolutionary maybe, or just some other jealous bum—meant to place a pox on both our houses that night, and if I had kissed him that night (as I had meant to, believe you me) then I too would have died, after the least exertion."_

"_My dear, you seem awfully nonchalant over such a traumatic experience, especially seeing as this Wieder fellow had so much potential for greatness. Was he not hailed as one of most prominent up-and-coming martial arts geniuses in fifty years, despite being a noble of a very poor nation? You mustn't bottle up your true feelings. It's my job to be analytical, not yours!" he said, in a feeble attempt at humor._

_She rolled her eyes. "Look, the truth is I've done my mourning. I just don't wail my eyes out like my mother wants. I've been abroad on several tours as a medical volunteer, I've seen true despair, I'm not a baby," she patiently insisted._

"_Yes, in fact, was it not one of these disease-stricken islands where you met Wieder?"_

"_It was. In fact half of my tours were just excuses to go visit him."_

_The blasé attitude with which she said all this impressed upon the psychiatrist that he must break through this facade._

"_You claim you are not a baby. And yet, I hear every time you embarked on one such journey, you asked to be knocked out due to your crippling fear of sea travel and the ocean."_

"_I've always been a bit… weak. Sickly," she admitted, now carefully studying the dust on the bookshelf beside her couch. "It's why I always sympathized with the indigent and infirm, and why I went on all those tours in the first place. But since Wieder I grew up, and now I know the world for what it is."_

_Klopp looked up from his incessant scribbling. "Or so you say, but you still refuse to leave the villa every chance you're offered. Or is my intelligence quite faulty?"_

"_Okay, all right, so I still can't stand the ocean! Happy?" she snapped, hugging her legs._

"_Here is my theory, Ms. Fasmidi. See if you can agree. The reason you detest sea travel is buried deep in your subconscious mind," he said, tapping at his forehead._

"_My what?"_

"_Your subconscious mind. The true you, buried underneath layers upon layers of your—and our—awareness."_

_Fasmidi's eyes narrowed. How did this bird brain infer she was hiding her true self?_

"_You fear showing your weakness and vulnerability to others, and since your frailty would be difficult to hide on a rocking ship you must resort to the pretext that you catch your very best beauty sleep and relaxation on such long voyages, in order to appear less weak. That is also why you are wont to suppress your emotions: the more stoic you appear in the face of adversity, the stronger you hope you come across. Well and good during matters of diplomacy, my dear, but in regards to a proper grieving process it simply will not do!"_

_Interesting conjecture, she smirked, though of course flatly wrong in every respect. It would serve her to strengthen this convenient cover he so unwittingly spun for her._

"_By God…" she said, feigning a fainting spell. This ought to hasten her escape. "You're… you're right…!"_

_Dr. Klopp, satisfied he'd hit the nail on the head and not the type to question the ease of his own success, drew the session to a close and allowed her to return to her own quarters._

**LATER THAT NIGHT**

_Mother had indeed worn her ceremonial crown all day that day, an act of uncharacteristic extravagance that she indulged in for the sake of her daughter and their servants, and she seemed even more pleased when she heard from Fasmi their session had yielded actual progress._

_Fasmidi kicked her legs out over her bedroom window sill, and sat for a moment to gaze on her snoring mother from across the sprawling estate's pond through the window of the master's chambers some fifty feet away. She briefly mused how effortless it would be, in reality, to pick off her mother with a simple flick of her finger. She'd even taken her crown to bed! And then, of course, that crown would be Fasmidi's–in more than one sense._

_Normally she'd slink into the shadows immediately after everybody had fallen asleep, but tonight she took pause. Despite being the _de facto _ruler of the nation, her mother's queenly countenance was a rare sight, and even if it was just for a single day, she fulfilled her ordained duty to greatness simply by deigning to look the part. As such Mother could not figure into her sacrifice scheme; only people like Wieder, who opted out of honing their greatness to the highest degree in favor of "settling down" earned her scorn—or, more accurately, the scorn of her only true master, the Sea Devil, Davy Jones._

_With intense relish she disrobed and transformed into her Zoan form–that of a tiny and nimble leaf insect. She bounded towards the wide ocean. Terrified of the water as she was supposed to be, this sort of late night skullduggery was the last thing anybody would expect of her. It also provided an excellent pretext for why she couldn't swim at the beach, for nobody outside the ring of occult worshipers she spearheaded knew she had consumed a Devil Fruit._

_The waves of the chalky white beaches of Castena Cacao glistened in the pale moonlight. The island, relatively minuscule and geopolitically insignificant, was about as boring as it got on the Grand Line. By the coast, where she was certain nobody could be around to see her, she unleashed what she considered her true self. Her magnificent hybrid form._

_She appeared more insect than human. Her long hairs receded and fused into two probing antennae. Her four powerful insect arms grew to deadly human size with two grasping claws on the nub of each appendage, and her eyes bubbled up into two bulbous, protruding green spheres positioned on each side. Moreover, two long hard spiky stalks at her back bore gigantic leaves that served as gliding wings. Her original hybrid form had retained more human aspects, but years of targeted training had shaved it all away, apart from her dulcet voice and, most importantly, her brain, which danced whenever her she let her true self emerge from its daytime slumber._

_Spreading her leafy air-foils out to each side, she leant on four legs and speedily skipped across the waves to the midnight meeting of the Devil Dare Society; they could not convene without their Prioress._

_With her compound vision she could see in all directions at once, and so it was not long until she spotted the orb-like floating headquarters of her followers at the center of the storm. As she approached, the winds intensified, powered by the boat's weather machine, the society's safeguard against potential interlocutors; after all, the Grand Line was perilous enough already without their exacerbating the matter of the weather, especially to pirate crews that strayed from the paths set forth by their log poses. She, on the other hand, needed only carefully to adjust her wings and leap with dizzying speed against the very air, enabling her to sail for but a split second through the ocean spray that would otherwise drown her and drag her down to meet Davy Jones a bit prematurely. The next thing she knew she had boarded safely, sopping wet but none the worse for wear._

_The sail-less, mastless barque, still named the "Kakisto" after the founder of the Society, had been enhanced over the centuries since he died as technology marched on, but it ran on the same principle—embedded in the keel of the ship was a hydroelectric mill that spun as the seas churned underneath, providing power to the fans which would push the ship forward. Since Fasmidi managed to acquire a new Devil Fruit for her closest disciple to consume, he had invested his bottomless wealth into building a whole other deck above the existing structure of the ship, with a clear dome that housed all the gears and gizmos to operate the weather machine._

"_Goldweadth! Clothe me!" she commanded. She was not one to waste time with greetings._

_The cloaked man emerged from below decks with her proper, pure white priestly robes._

"_Is that a new eye?" she noticed, as she slipped into her robes and assumed human form once again—Davy Jones suffered not such arrogance above these sacred waters. "Nice touch!"_

_Goldweadth had replaced his trademark golden eye with a green, spherical eye shaped like her hybrid form's._

"_Does it please you?"_

"_Yes, but don't draw down your hood until after the initiation rite is over. I'll admire it—_

_along with the rest of you—later," she promised, to which Goldweadth could only simper._

"_Fasmidi, I don't know about this guy…," the cloaked man intimated nervously. "He doesn't seem too committed to the cause…"_

"_Don't worry about it. If he's not committed, we'll make him committed. Besides, it's about time we had a chef on board."_

"_Next thing I know we'll be eating nothing but leaves," he mock-complained. "I reckon he wasn't coined Bitter Kurt by the editors of _Monthly Epicurean Ring_ for nothing."_

_Eager to escape the night's chill, Fasmidi started down the stairs, with Goldweadth bowing in after her._

"_He's made it to the top of the culinary world, and that's a good enough criterion for me for initiation. I'm tired of all my meals being coconut by-products back home. The real question is how this 'Bitter Kurt' discovered us. I understand Jamal was about to offer him a place in the Society but Kurt beat him to the chase?"_

"_That's what Jamal says, anyway."_

"_Interesting. Very interesting."_

_They reached the worship room's silver door, engraved with a depiction of how in the beginning the oceans spewed forth from the formless void of the abyss. A complex Lock Dial sealed the door shut unless the passphrase was whispered in exactly the right cadence. Fasmidi knelt as though in prayer and touched her lips to the shell's opening._

"_D. is the Devil. D. is doomsday."_

_The Lock Dial spun and loosened the bolt, and the ornate door swung forward. The two acolytes of Davy Jones were welcomed with a burning shaft of light and the intense fumes of the incense braziers adorning the tapestried walls of the barque's circular bethel, and they entered with proper deference, heads held low and hoods covering their eyes._

_Surrounding them were seated every other member of the Devil Dare Society, including the new recruit. At her prompting all but the grumbling man in chef's attire rose._

_Fasmidi started the proceedings, taking her place as Prioress in front of the tiered Shrine of the Sea God. "State your name before God the Demonic, state your true and only name, for he shall judge you against his many magnificent titles, and deem you great or unworthy."_

"_Goldweadth Gallant." He drew back his hood, and his fake eye turned gold once more. He undid his blonde ponytail before his God and fell to the floor on his knees, abject and penitent._

"_Rise," Fasmidi intoned. "The Sea Devil smiles on your name. You are worthy."_

_This role call repeated down the circle of cloaked men._

"_Bayrad Falstaff." The haughty bald old swordsman, who wanted nothing more than to get this tedious initiation ceremony over with, affected his most convincing expression of reverence and knelt. His name too was judged worthy._

"_Jamal." The swarthy hunter didn't even bother to conceal his broad, toothy grin or sweep his grungy block locks into a more presentable coif as he knelt. Pronounced worthy, like everybody would, but Jamal decided it would be pressing his luck to punch the air just this once._

"_Tertullian." The timid scholar glanced apprehensively each way as he removed the bookmaster's pileus from his scalp before whipping off his hood and prostrating himself to Davy Jones's sinister scrutiny. Fasmidi passed down the same judgment every time, but there was still always that kernel of doubt lodged in his brain._

"_Ushao." Jamal's little brother proved it was possible to kneel ostentatiously. He screwed his eyes closed and prayed, hands clasped, that Davy Jones would wash away the old world and scrap everything which displeased Ushao in the cloud-piercing tsunami of his dreams._

"_Tremain." The pot-bellied music mogul relished his validation by the Sea Devil, whom he worked for in secret, even if his public persona was as a wholesome, family friendly enemy of the unconventional, revolutionary music pioneered by the Soul King. He drew back his hood and put away his glasses, revealing dim watery eyes incapable of fun. He fell to his knees, awaiting judgment. Davy Jones and Fasmidi were the only beings he respected who deemed him worthy._

"_I the Prioress renew our pact and our promise. In the name primordial, and the essence prime, Davy Jones." She made a holy sign with her hands in the shape of the letter D. Then she drew back her own hood and let swing her regal purple hair, announcing herself as the sublime and invincible Heiress of All._

"_I've had about enough of this," Bitter Kurt blurted, a boozy unkempt heap against the wall. His gums flapped toothlessly as he spoke, and he could not get up so easily because of his peg leg. "What makes you so damn special?"_

_Goldweadth nearly lunged at him. "How dare you speak to her that—"_

"_Stand back, Goldweadth!"_

_He drew back in silence, apart from the audible grinding of his teeth._

"_It's a fair question. For all he knows I could be a charlatan. Indeed, Kurt, it may amuse you to know that the leader of this ring before me was in fact a false prophet."_

"_Was he now?" Kurt coughed, somewhat distracted by the pungent incense. "And what clued you in to that?"_

"_His imbecilic sermons parroting that old heresy, the absurd _anti-fructus_ notion that humankind's decadent partaking of the Devil's Fruits in the Primordial State precipitated our fall from grace. Davy Jones revealed himself to me in all his terrible splendor when I ate my Fruit, and so I understood that the fall was triggered by lazy, complacent humans failing to show their Fruits the proper respect and using them to the utmost. As such we must demonstrate to Davy that we his acolytes have earned our place back at the very top of the Chain of Being by dominating all the sinners and weaklings."_

"_So what, you just changed this 'false prophet's' mind because you ate one?"_

"_No. He was obstinate in his blasphemy, so I put him in his proper place. The bottom of the ocean."_

"_You done Lockered him!" Kurt seemed impressed. "I didn't think royalty such as yourself would get their hands dirty."_

"_The Sea Devil predetermined that the pretender would meet his end. I'm just his vessel."_

"_Bet nobody in this here Society wanted to flout your authority after that."_

"_How did you come to discover the Devil Dare Society?"_

"_I didn't 'discover' the Devil Dare Society. I plain figured it existed," Kurt said. "Told myself, there's got to be something like a secret society in this wide old world, and Luck is finally on my side. Jamal swaggered into my restaurant the other week slamming 300,000 too many berries on the counter for my famous flank of fire eel and the rest is history."_

"_Don't thank your luck until you're properly initiated and you've surrendered yourself to the will of the Deepest Depth to my satisfaction."_

_Kurt grimaced, but was curious; it sounded as though she herself had only been initiated relatively recently. "So how exactly did you come into all this Sea Devil hullabaloo?"_

"_Davy Jones guided my hand. I retrieved countless occult manuals from libraries on loan, slowly deciphering the cryptic allegories for any hint of a society far flung from my boring fate as the potentate of a minor nation, a society that would behoove a post-human such as myself. Imagine my ecstasy when I finally pieced it all together. Most of the acolytes gathered here are legacy initiates, but I found this barque by myself. The Sea Devil has granted me eyes that see all!"_

_She could no longer suppress it, and surely Davy woudn't mind if his chosen Prioress showed off just a little? She bit her lip as her true eyes sprang forth, great big compound eyes that graced an otherwise still human face. She quivered and blushed and smiled unabashedly._

_But far from some manifest goddess, all Kurt saw was a deluded young woman who was addicted to her Devil Fruit power like burning._

"_You see 'all,' huh?"_

"_Yes, and before these divine eyes there is not a creature on the earth who does not tremble."_

"_You see me trembling, princess?"_

"_You are tainted by sin," she confabulated. "Once you are properly baptized, the sea devil will claim your heart and infuse it with life-giving fear."_

_Kurt blew his nose on his handkerchief and glanced up at her with some irritation; this was getting old fast. "Look, I'm not really here to join your club, and we don't like each other anyway. I just need your assistance is all. And if the transaction goes smoothly, then we can part ways pleased as punch as soon as tomorrow morning."_

_Silence. Fasmidi bit her lip, at a total loss for words, but he couldn't tell if she was from shock or rage, because her insect eyes no longer conveyed human emotions. So he pressed on regardless._

"_I understand you lot are interested in sacrificing 'people who don't pursue their potential' to end the world or something."_

"_The world would be reborn—"_

"_Yeah, all right, 'reborn,' whatever you say princess. Well who better a candidate than Monkey D. Luffy? Rising star pirate, 400,000,000 berry bounty for god's sake–"_

"_Don't blaspheme!" Goldweadth seethed._

"_Shut your trap, boy. Do you want your new era or not?"_

"_Puh, please, go on," said Ushao, so eager for his imminent godhood he spoke out of turn._

"_What, can we talk now?" Falstaff the swordsman drawled._

"_Wait till you hear the plan guys, it's goooood," Jamal guffawed. "You'll be glad I met him, no joke."_

"_Monkey D. Luffy, isn't he that pirate who dropped off the planet two years ago?" asked Fasmidi._

"_Well yeah, that's the point. Not exactly fulfilling his true potential is he? And he's a D. and everything," said Kurt._

"_But isn't there the minor issue of his being already dead? Why else would he be gone so long?" said Goldweadth as evenly as he could, anxious to poke holes in Kurt's plan._

"_He's not dead," piped up Tremain. "And that bastard Brook turned out to be one of his crew all along!"_

"_Yadedede!" rolled his distinctive laugh. "Didn't catch the news on your way to the barque did ya, 'Goldweadth,' was it? The Straw Hat Pirate Crew was spotted in its entirety on Saobody just earlier today. Lucky lucky," grinned Kurt toothlessly. "We need to head them off before they go and dive down underwater for Fishman Island; if we can't reach them by then they'll be on the other side of the Red Line miles into the New World in no time, well out of our ambit."_

_If Fasmidi could have narrowed her eyes she would have. "What's in it for you?"_

"_I get to see the man I've despised these two long years get his comeuppance. I want him to see his crewmates suffer and perish one by one. And then I want that miserable cur pirate _cooked_."_

"_No, Monkey D. Luffy must die at my hands for the ritual to take," countered Fasmidi._

"_Oh, I'm not talking about Monkey D. Luffy."_

"_Then who?"_

_Kurt held up the bounty poster. "I'm talking about one Black Leg Sanji," he spat with bottomless bile._

"_Black Leg Sanji? Who's that? What is his connection to the D.?"_

"_Never mind that, to you he's just another member of Luffy's crew. Anyway, here's the plan—"_

"_Not so fast, Kurt," Fasmidi chided. "If you want to work with us, I'm afraid you're going to have to become one of us. We absolutely cannot conduct the will of Davy Jones alongside infidels. Goldweadth."_

_Goldweadth smirked and pulled the ceremonial brand of the Devil Dare Society from inside his cloak._

"_Get that damned thing away from me."_

"_If you want to work alongside us, you have to take the brand," she urged. "It's our sigil of camaraderie and discipleship to the Sea Devil. You must accept his auspices on your flesh and prove yourself trustworthy before we can proceed with any sort of arrangement."_

"_Thanks cupcake, but unless your eyes aren't as great as you say they are I think you can see I'm scarred enough as it is."_

"_Fool," she snapped. "You would rather we dunked you to your death?"_

"_I know too much?" he asked, with the air of somebody who'd known too much on many other occasions. "I've been dunked before. I've been 'baptized' already by your Davy Jones and I survived. Tell your Sea Devil that Lady Luck's got my back."_

"_My divine eyes aren't necessary to forecast Lady Luck won't lift a finger to save you where our Underseer lurks. Your services are no longer required."_

"_Ahaha, surely you don't think for a second I would be quite so moronic as to come without any back-up?" And Kurt fished out of his chef's jacket pocket a tiny bell. "Allow me to show you some 'creatures on this earth' who scoff at all your silly fables…"_

_From the deep emerged with a tremendous surge of brine three slavering Grand Line sea kings—two regular sea kings and a part-earthworm sea king —majestic scales sparkling bright in the breaking dawn as they skipped and tangled necks goofily for Kurt, a conditioned response to the dinner chime._

"_What!" Fasmidi gasped as the barque rocked violently. "Jamal! Why didn't your Remora Hounds come warn us! Didn't you train them to—"_

"_Ah, is that what those things are called. They ferry everybody to the barque right? I must admit to peeking at my recipe book's index now and then for a description that matched the rank beast while Jamal steered," Kurt gloated, staring pointedly at the panicking Jamal. "I was going to try my hand at roasting them and maybe even experiment… basting them with a savory honey glaze… but I guess my babies were just a little too hungry tonight."_

_On cue, the blood and entrails dripping out one sea king's maw sloshed onto the barque, splattering against the translucent dome and nearly seeping through and jamming the works of the weather machine rigged under its screen. Despite hailing all the way from the Calm Belt, these sea kings for the moment seemed completely unperturbed by the roaring wind and waves generated by the machine._

"_So, the plan," Kurt cleared his throat, everyone rapt with attention. "They must still be around Saobody. We all head off this very second and kill them. Objections?"_

"_D. is for doomsday," Fasmidi breathed, as in a trance. "We have to get there before they escape!" she realized. "Full throttle ahead!"_

"_As you wish, princess," said Kurt, and with another little ring of his dinner bell the sea kings quit dancing and began to tow the barque extremely fast across the tumultuous waves._

"_Goldweadth, fetch th Orbs! Ushao, go prepare the Fasmibots! Tonight is the night the sun will never stain! Tonight is the end of the world of weaklings!"_


	3. The Bitter Pill

**Chapter 3:**** Bitter Pill**

Boin Archipelago mist-flies flitted by Nami's mikan trees, showering the Straw Hats with a faintly shining gossamer dust that illuminated the night. The flies seemed to take a liking to Chopper, circling the prongs of his antlers in deliberate, serene figure eights. Grinning fit to burst, he cycled through his various transformations to see if the mist-flies could adapt their arcs mid-flight to antlers of all shapes and sizes.

A gorgeous silver moon hung high over the grassy deck of the Thousand Sunny, as though heralding her maiden voyage with her new, improved crew… or, perhaps, extending warm congratulations on the simple sense of peace she felt, now that she could protect the ones she loved. Sunny was not a mere witness to the festivities taking place on board—she was as active a participant as if they'd never stopped sailing together.

And as each crew member kept getting sidetracked from elaborating on their separate journeys by a ceaseless barrage of inappropriate jokes, sudden outbreaks of song (with rock accompaniment!), and Luffy pressing every inch of Franky from the opposite side of the ship to probe in a craze to unlock his "secret hair," Sanji, for one, was beginning to understand what that shitty old geezer told him about the Grand Line.

"Oi, Nami," he called, slapping the grass at his fingertips. "Come on, join us already!"

"Sorry guys!" she shouted over the spray of the hull, clearly torn between getting the hang of steering a coated ship, and partying alongside the lewd, brash, hot-headed and altogether insufferable idiots she'd longed to see for two years. "Let me just stay at the helm a few more minutes! I wanna make sure I know what I'm doing before we head underwater!"

Sanji took a long look at her glorious backside and said: "Never mind, Nami-swan, take as much time as you need."

The Grand Line—"Paradise."

When he grasped Sunny's soft grass and savored the salt in the air, memories of bygone adventures came flooding back; reminiscing with friends was proving just as intoxicating as perving out over the girls.

"Robin, help meeeee," Luffy said, poking and prodding Franky at every conceivable angle with sparkly eyes that outmatched even Franky's nipples for sheer luminosity. At times he even shifted dangerously close into Gear Second speed in his reckless enthusiasm. "Find the secret hair!"

Franky was doubled over, practically wheezing from the new ticklish sensation his BF 37 cyborg body had built in—foolishly, in retrospect. Robin had stopped by her room to slip into the warm overcoat she wore alongside the revolutionaries, thinking everybody would be displaying souvenirs from their travels and speechifying—only to find everyone losing their merrymaking minds. She was a bit relieved. The only history she didn't like to plumb was her own.

"Where shall I check, captain?" she almost giggled.

"Use your hands, like a million hands, just pat him everywhere at once! We need to find the secret hair!" he pleaded, as though his life depended on finding said secret hair.

"AHAHAHA, you bastard!" Franky would have been rolling on the floor were it not for his gigantic shoulder pads. "There is no secret hair."

"Don't worry, Luffy, you can let up. Your father taught me all I needed to know to perfect the extraction of vital intelligence…"

Two hands appeared at Franky's crotch.

"And as it happens, it's no different from my old approach!" she chuckled morbidly.

"I'm afraid the joke's on you," Franky grinned up at her. "You see, my _kintama_ are no longer merely idiomatic!"

'You mean your balls are really gold!" said Luffy, evidently in a rapture of admiration. "That's too awesome! Can… can they stretch?"

"No, you idiot, of course they can't stre—"

"Robin, see if they can stretch!"

Robin closed her eyes and grasped at the air. "Clutch!"

A pause.

"ROBO VOICE ACTIVATED."

Meanwhile…

"Hey, remember when, remember when—" Sanji pulled down his smile with his hand, and took a deep drag of his cigarette to regain his composure. "Remember when, when Zoro, nnhAHAHAHAHA!"

At this Usopp positively howled with laughter and clapped (as he was wont), briefly forgetting he was holding a mug of ale. The contents of which promptly sloshed all over him.

"When I what?" asked Zoro, affecting his more zen attitude and slapping Sanji with the dead eye of indifference, but more than a trace of Zoro's good old testiness remained.

"When you… when you gotonthewrongship GHUUUUH." Sanji had to chomp on his fist to keep from overtaxing his lungs and dropping dead of laughter.

"Sanji, are you okay!" piped up Chopper, placing his hoof over Sanji's heart. "No good! Five beats a second!"

This, however, was not what Usopp was concerned with. "When he what?" Usopp asked impishly, glancing forlornly at Zoro the imperturbable. "'Got on the wrong ship?' When did that happen?"

"Idiot cook…" said Zoro dismissively. "That was this afternoon."

To which Usopp sloshed yet more ale on himself. "Pahahahahaha!"

"Arara, let me get that for you, Usopp-san…" Brook obliged, stooooping over to dab at Usopp's bare chest with his handkerchief.

"That's okay Brook, just another benefit of not wearing a shirt! Nothing to get dirty."

"Yohohohohoho, you're right!" Brook threw off his shirt and proceeded to play an improvised rock solo whose sole line was an awful pun about "baby back ribs" that each and every Straw Hat enjoyed immensely. Brook serenaded the night so skillfully that even people who'd never had much of an ear for new music, let alone an entirely new genre of music, lost themselves to the tremendous swell and swagger of the undisputed King of Soul. Not even stony-faced Zoro could keep from subconsciously tapping the three sheathes at his side to the beat.

"Guys, we're on open waters! With mist like this that music is going to carry too far for comfort," shouted Nami, squinting into the fog of wee morning churning at the horizon. "Couldn't you turn it down just a tad, Brook?"

"Ah! I apologize, Nami-san." His solo stopped abruptly and Brook set aside his electric guitar, settling instead for a session of absently strumming his mandolin. "Is this all right?"

"Thanks, that's lovely," she said. "I don't want to cut into everybody's reunion, it's just that we spent all that effort making sure nobody was on our tail, we don't want to attract… unwanted…"

"What is it? Something wrong?" Sanji stood alert and made to stride to her side with all chivalrous speed.

"Guys, I think we're being followed! Usopp, hand me your spyglass!"

"Sure thing, Nami!" Usopp said, butting up beside her at the helm and handing her the spyglass. He guarded his eyes against the glare of the moon's reflection on the waves and tried to make out the figure treading in the distance.

"Don't worry," said Luffy, focusing his Color of Observation haki. "It's just a single old man…. From the sound of his voice… A badly wounded old man. And he's got a bug with him."

"How do you know that?" asked Chopper, confused. "You can hear his voice?"

"Wait a second," Luffy realized. "A badly wounded old man! There's only one conclusion!"

"He needs our help?" asked Robin.

"He's gotta be a zombie! A bug, AND a zombie! Gotta grab my net! Franky, where's my net!"

"IN MY WORKSHOP-ROBO."

And without another word Luffy barreled excitedly over to fetch it.

"You know, I'd almost forgotten I have a crazy idiot for a captain," Nami sighed.

"He may be crazy," said Zoro, placing one boot on the forecastle and leaning over the edge. "But he's no idiot. Or maybe it's the other way around. In any case, thing's barely bigger than a fishing boat. One, two enemies max."

"And just what do you think you'll be able to see, One-Eyed Wonder?" Sanji taunted, jumping up to join him.

"Look who's talking," he said, finally shedding his stoic demeanor and letting his more bloodthirsty side emerge. "Unless you can see through that piss-soaked mop you call hair."

"The day I let a shitty marimo like you judge my hair is the day—OW! Naaami, what the OW!"

"Eyes on the ocean, numbskulls," she commanded, having whacked the two upside the head with her staff. "Keep watching him, see if you make out any distress signal or someth—"

But Zoro was already drawing his sword. "Want me to cut him up?" he asked, only half-joking.

"You're terrible, Zoro," said Usopp, clutching his chest. "For a second you had me going!"

"It could be a trick. He lures us in by having us bring him on board to treat his wounds, then he blasts the ship sky high with some bomb. What's he doing on a fishing boat in the middle of nowhere?"

"You may not have noticed, but the Grand Line doesn't exactly have a shortage of eccentrics," Sanji rebutted.

"Unhinged. _Dangerous_," Zoro offered. "Just a little nick on the side of the boat. Show him we're not ones to be messed with."

Usopp placed his hand on Zoro's and pushed down, forcing him to sheath it all the way. "Let me guess, you just want to show off that you can do long distance attacks and Sanji can't."

Zoro gave Usopp a demon's glare, but Usopp just kept smiling with his eyebrows raised. Zoro huffed and relaxed his shoulders, smiling as well. "Maybe."

"But there's somebody who's even better at long-distance attacks aboard this ship," said Usopp.

"Luffy?" asked Zoro.

"No. Me!"

Sanji couldn't help but smirk. It looked as though Usopp took he'd told him at Enies Lobby all those years back to heart.

"_There are some things I can do that you can't do. And there are some things you can do that I can't do."_

"Ugh. Men." Nami made a show of rolling her eyes, but she in particular was pleased with Usopp's progress. "Usopp, be a sport and scout that boat out from the crow's nest while these two babies keep me company."

"You got it," said Usopp, now with his game face on. "And don't you worry, Zoro, the second he whips out a gun or something, he's the deadest doornail in history."

And so Usopp left to clamber up to the lookout, trusty spyglass in hand. That moment Luffy burst back onto the scene, bug-catcher's net in hand.

"The bug! It's on board!"

"You mean the mist-flies?" asked Chopper.

"No, I mean this one!" Luffy pinpointed Fasmidi's location once more with his haki and, much faster than she dreamed possible, stretched out and grabbed her from two stories up.

Chopper's jaw dropped and tears streamed from his eyes. "Uwaaaah! Luffy, you're so cool!"

"…What was the point of the net then?" deadpanned Franky, having adjusted his voice back to normal.

"Chopper, it's making a noise, come up here and translate!"

The reindeer cantered up to Luffy and placed his ear on Luffy's hand, where the insect was wriggling and writhing. A look of worry came over Chopper's eyes as he listened. "It's saying… you're a vile wretch of a human being, no, a foul subhuman monkey she'd sooner exterminate than look at… unworthy to touch her."

"Whoa… what a smart bug," taking absolutely none of that to heart. Luffy wanted to make friends. "And it's a girl bug!" Luffy laughed. "I didn't even know there _were_ girl bugs! I'm gonna keep her! It? Her," he settled on.

This was way more intelligent than Chopper had ever supposed any insect could be, not to mention spiteful—but then, this was the Grand Line, and there were countless more things in this world he would never have guessed. If you'd asked Chopper when he was still apprenticing under Kureha in Drum whether camels could be attracted to humans, whether a person could rebuild himself as a cola-powered cyborg after getting hit by a train at full speed, or whether a skeleton could poop and play a mean piano, you would most likely have received an emphatic no way. So Chopper unwittingly shook off his unease over the strange insect and instead mulled over something productive, like what materials he might have to prepare if Luffy's 'wounded old man' required immediate treatment. Who knows what could have happened to him out here…

Fasmidi, for her part, had never entertained the notion the Straw Hats' pet could speak, let alone convey her murderous intent back to her victim. If Monkey D. Luffy somehow grew wise to her scheme and she was forced to kill him prematurely, then the Society's golden opportunity would be lost for she knew not how long. If only she were allowed to unleash her true self and her true eyes, she would have seen through to the heart of that abominable antlered beast and steered clear of the mess she now found herself in.

But first, she had to gather intel on her enemy. And to do that she had to put aside her natural revulsion and speak to the beast.

"What is the strange ability of this human!" she said to Chopper, pretending to be worried and scared. "I've never been plucked from so far away!"

"Oh, don't worry," said Chopper. "It's just a Devil Fruit ability, you shouldn't be afraid of it. Luffy won't hurt you at all. Look, even I'm a Devil Fruit user!" Chopper transformed back into his Walk Point, much more recognizably a reindeer.

Fasmidi's mind reeled. This beast, too, was a beneficiary of Davy Jones's great boon! She'd never felt more conflicted—on the one hand, Devil Fruit users were beautiful in essence and those who ingested them became pure and innocent at the very root; and on the other hand, this hideous creature was a perversion of the sacred Chain of Being.

Then Chopper transformed into his Heavy Point. "See? It's the Human Human Fruit! Pretty cool huh?"

Fasmidi writhed and screamed with a mix of fear and unadulterated rage. As a higher being who disdained humankind with the utmost scorn, the very idea of a Human Human Fruit existing at all was nothing less than an affront to her very worldview. Why would Davy Jones create such a Fruit? The cognitive dissonance, lasting only a fleeting second or two, was soon patched up with an answer: _he wouldn't, the beast lies and can only lie. The beast can transform because it is an abomination among abominations._

"Can you transform into a pure human?"

"Afraid not," said Chopper sheepishly.

Hah! She knew it! Since he was not human he didn't qualify as an eligible candidate for sacrifice—he merely existed as a clear symbol from God the Demonic that this indeed was the crew that was degenerate enough to trigger the fall of humankind.

Meanwhile…

The wounded old man's fishing boat began to flash a queer pattern with his lantern.

"I can't read what he's saying, if he's trying to say something!" called Usopp from the lookout. "Does anybody know any nautical codes? Why does he think _pirates_ would understand?"

Sanji thought the pattern was awfully familiar. He squinted into the distance but couldn't make it out well enough through the eerie fog, so he too climbed the lookout mast for a better view.

"You know code?" said Usopp, somewhat surprised.

"No. Well, sort of. Different fleets or companies will have different codes, obviously, and you couldn't memorize them all even if you spent your whole life at it anyway. It's just… I think I do recognize that signal!"

"What, really?" Usopp handed him the spyglass.

"Thanks." Sanji adjusted the lens and focused in on the wounded old man's lantern. There could be no mistaking it.

"That's the sea chef's code! Z-Zeff!" he blurted out.

"EEEH!" Usopp's eyes popped out of their sockets in surprise. "I thought he was still in East Blue! Did he come to find All Blue too?"

"No… no, it couldn't be that shitty old geezer. He doesn't have the mustache or the hat…" Sanji didn't know if he was relieved or disappointed. "But he does have a peg leg."

"So what, is that the code of the Baratie?" asked Usopp.

"Not exactly. Every sea restaurant in the world is supposed to use that code. That's one of the reasons Don Krieg wanted the Baratie so badly—because it's so easy to memorize the code and pass yourself off as harmless. Unfortunately for him, though, we were not exactly a restaurant that played by anybody else's rules."

"So who on Earth could this guy be?"

"I don't know. He's not wearing a typical chef's uniform… but doesn't look as though he's dangerous either. No weapons on board or anything—not even a fishing rod."

"Fish must have Lockered it," Usopp joked.

"Luffy!" Sanji shouted below him. "He's a chef of some sort! Should we let him aboooooard?"

Luffy contemplated the situation. "How well does he cook?" he asked.

"How the hell should I know!" Sanji steamed.

"Let's have a cooking contest!" said Luffy. "We could always use a second chef on board," he reasoned. "Nah, we already have a creepy old man in the crew, never mind."

"Too cruel, captain! That was close to the _bone!_ YOHOHOHOHOHO!"

"Let him aboard," said Luffy. "If he's stupid and won't cook I'll punch him into the horizon."

"…That would be a bit harsh, Luffy," said Chopper.

"Yeah. I'll just cut him up," said Zoro.

"Cut up a wounded old man? Ahh, because he's a zombie." Luffy pounded his palm with his fist. "Okay, go right ahead."

"Or we could just let him go," Chopper suggested diplomatically. "Right, Robin?"

"If you like I could teach you the proper way to dispose of a corpse after assassination, Luffy," said Robin casually.

This put everyone off the idea altogether.

"Oh yeah, Robin, can you send an eye over there? See what's on that boat?" called Nami.

"I'm sorry, I can only replicate body parts on places I already know or can see well. Maybe when the boat is within range."

At that moment, the dinky fishing boat seemed to hover several yards above the surface of the waves.

"What the..!" said Sanji. He frantically focused and saw that the boat was being suspended by iron stilts, splayed out to each side like a water walking spider. The strange vessel then ambled across the sea towards Sunny in fluid strides, almost like a living thing. Moreover, what appeared to be a tiny fishing boat was actually what seemed like the ornament of a submarine of truly epic proportions—nearly as massive as Sunny herself. And the submarine on stilts scurried their way rapidly.

"I've never seen anything like it except in concept sketches! That chef must be SUPER rich!" said Franky.

"Which means he can't be out to collect our heads or our variables—if he's that rich, why should he care about us?" said Robin, preparing to clutch the wounded old man with a well-timed Tres Fleur just in case.

"Could be the prestige…" Nami offered.

"It's not the prestige!" said Sanji. "I recognize him now! That's the world-famous chef, Bitter Kurt! That peg leg threw me off!"

"Luffy, what do we do?" said Zoro, hands on two of his swords.

"He's a world-famous zombie? Wah-HAH! Let him aboard!" Luffy held onto his hat as the wind picked up.

The giant water walking submarine slid to a halt alongside Sunny. The side of the vessel clearly read "The Bitter Pill." Two of the stilts bent and warped to latch on to Sunny's side.

"Black Leg Sanji," he crowed, getting up slowly on his peg leg. "And crew," he nodded. "Would any of you like a nice spot of tea?"

"Uhhh... tea?" said Luffy. "Sanji, is that like cola?"

"Ehehehe..." Luffy was not making Sanji seem like the most refined of chefs in front of this living legend.

"Well, is one of you going to help me down from here or am I going to have to limp my sorry ass over?"

"Hey! What's up with the peg leg exactly?" was the first thing Sanji could think to ask.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough, don't you worry one bit. But if you're asking how come you didn't know I even had a peg leg, well, let's just say that when I appear in front of the press a big old boot finds its way up that stump," said Kurt, followed by a hearty belly laugh. This wounded old man did not seem bitter in the slightest.

"He's funny! Help him down, Robin!" said Luffy.

Robin complied and spawned copies of her feet alongside the hull of the submarine to use as footholds, and arms pointing upward so Kurt could support himself on the way down.

"Why if it isn't the infamous Nico Robin," said Kurt with some genuine astonishment at her power. "Can you feel this?" Kurt placed his peg leg right on the ankle of one of her feet, ostensibly by accident. Robin's knees buckled a little in pain, and Sanji looked concerned. Perfect.

However, before Kurt could accidentally extract some more pain from Sanji's comrade, Sanji vaulted up towards Kurt and hoisted him up on his back. "This tea of yours better be good," he told him.

"Only the best in bitterness, Black Leg Sanji," he replied cryptically. "By the way, do you know you look nothing like your bounty poster?"

"I am somewhat aware.".

With a single bound Sanji sailed from submarine to ship with Kurt at his back, then let him clamber back down.

"So… what is it you want, old man?" asked Nami.

"Nothing more or less than to hold a nice long conversation with the disciple of my disciple, Red Leg Zeff."


	4. Things Go Sour

**Chapter 4****: Things Go Sour**

Dinner aboard Sunny. Sanji provided the main dishes, Kurt furnished all the beverages and desserts.

"Zeff must have gotten the idea of the peg leg from me then! Yadededede."

Sanji had finished telling him the story of the island of starvation, and how Zeff came to be a restaurant owner.

"I swear boy, damn near the same thing happened to me, damn near it; pirate's life to culinary superstar in no time at all, if I can be allowed to toot my own horn, as they say."

This was, naturally, a lie. But then, he thought Sanji's story was too good to be true as well.

"So, you any closer to finding All Blue boy?"

"Not even a little bit," Sanji admitted with an apologetic smirk. He was skeptical of Kurt's claim to have been Zeff's mentor as a pirate, seeing as Zeff never mentioned him—but then, Zeff seldom ever regaled Sanji with any tales of his past in any case. So Sanji felt obligated to give the old man the benefit of the doubt.

"This tea is bitter," Luffy whined, spitting it out.

"It's probably good for you, drink, drink!" said Kurt.

"…Only probably?" asked Nami.

"No, Luffy, you have to be more gentlemanly about it," Brook admonished. "You extend your pinky while you're holding the cup, you take an itty bitty sip, and then you spit it out."

"But Brook, what if you don't have a pinky?" asked Chopper.

"Ah, well, if you can't extend your pinky, then proper etiquette demands you cluck like a chicken."

"That's a lie, Chopper," said Usopp. "You have to bark like a dog."

"…That's a lie too, isn't it?"

"Yeah, Brook's right, you actually just have to cluck like a chicken. Well, what are you waiting for? Start clucking, Chopper."

"Wait, what if you can't extend your pinky or cluck like a chicken?" said Chopper.

"That's when you've got to run rings around the ship while drinking your tea."

"Be right back, guys!" Chopper took his tea out and drank while running circles around the ship, in due deference to their dinner guest. "Blegh!" Chopper spat it out over the side of the ship, quite audibly.

"If Chopper thinks his awful-tasting medicine is fine and this is gross, I think I'll pass," said Zoro.

"I like it. It reminds me of the tea in one of my nicer foster homes," said Robin, reminiscing on a rare pleasant patch of her past.

Fasmidi sat on Luffy's shoulder, making absolutely certain Kurt wasn't poisoning any one of the crew—if any of the Sacrifices were not in peak physical condition during their respective fights, the Sea Devil would not arise from his ancient slumber, deeming the matches unfair and not a true testament to the strength of the rulers of the World to Come. However, she knew Kurt was an infidel and did not believe, and so she had to ensure he didn't break their promise and just outright poison them all. She knew his only stake in this was to have Sanji watch his comrades die. Fasmidi was an expert on poisons, having contacted the perfect death potion for her betrothed once he outlived his usefulness.

Kurt couldn't help but see that the Straw Hats were decent people… if a little on the dumb side. "So I see you count the Demon Child Nico Robin amongst your friends," he said, grasping at any straw he could to maintain his hatred. "Boy let me tell ya, if I had ten berries for every girl who wanted to destroy the world I've met recently…"

Sanji took this as a tasteless joke. He began to come across harsher in his questioning.

"So how did you manage to find us anyway, old man?"

"Oh, I've got connections in the Marines, and they informed me immediately when the Straw Hat Pirates were spotted once more. I couldn't be seen fraternizing with a pirate, though—for my career, of course—and so I came alone. Same reason I never went to go visit Zeff; if you ever meet again send him my regards, but my job is way too cushy to risk losing it over some silly fiasco; at my level being associated with even just former pirates is anathema, unfortunately. As for how I tracked your ship, my submarine has state of the art sonar technology."

"Sonar?" said Sanji quizzically.

"Yes, it's the latest innovation of one Dr. Vegapunk."

"Oho!" said Franky. "Can I see it?"

"Believe it or not, the interior of my submarine is rather cramped," Kurt lied. He wanted Sanji to come alone or else the plan wouldn't work. "I'm afraid a man of your bulk simply won't fit. In fact, it can be pretty claustrophobic in there so I'd say one person at a time!"

"What is this 'sonar' anyway?"

"Come on over, I'll show you!"

Had Kurt established sufficient trust to convince Sanji to stray from the rest?

Sanji sized the old man up. He could definitely take him down without too much effort if it became a scuffle. And besides, the dude had one foot in the grave as it was—might as well humor him. "All right, see you guys later, Usopp clean the dishes," he said, lighting up a cigarette.

"Hey! Why's it gotta be me?" said Usopp.

"Because you're the only other one who does them right. And isn't a girl."

Kurt told him the real reason he wanted Sanji over on the way to the submarine: "I'll be honest boy, there's a reckoning that must be had and that's why I sought you out."

"Figured as much, old man," said Sanji coolly. "What, did you wrong Zeff somehow and this is your penance?"

Sanji and Kurt entered the submarine, and that very second Jamal emerged from the shadows and pinched Sanji's nerve, causing him to collapse.

"Wrong. It's your penance, Black Leg Sanji."

"…Just my luck. Another loser wants me dead for no reason."

"It's funny you should talk about luck. Mine is on the rise, and yours will keep plummeting as tonight's events transpire." This was a very well rehearsed speech. "You see, today is the day you experience complete loss. You will lose even the sun in the sky. This is your last night on the earth—and the last nights of each of your friends."

"YOU BAS—"

"SILENCE!" Kurt rammed his peg leg into Sanji's mouth. "It's all your fault, Sanji. Your fault I lost everything and everyone I loved. That night would never have happened if you weren't such bad luck!"

Oh no.

Sanji's eyebrows tilted up. The tears flowed freely.

Kurt. From the chef's boat before the Baratie. The memories swirled before him as he struggled to speak, to reach out to him.

"_I'm going to find All Blue no matter what!" tiny Sanji piped up._

"_But Sanji, I've told you a thousand times I've already discovered All Blue," said Kurt, happy, whole and intact. "It's in West Blue, between two upside-down volcanoes."_

"Jamal," said Kurt. "Round up everybody from downstairs and attack the ship." Kurt had used the vessel's sonar capabilities to interfere with Luffy's Color of Observation ability to count voices.

"_Last time you said it was here in North Blue, sideways on the sheerest cliff of a mountain!" said Sanji, pointing his knife at Kurt all flustered and blushing. "You can't make a fool out of me!"_

His consciousness was already fading; how on earth had Kurt gotten so scarred?

"_Yeah, 'cause you're already a fool," teased one of the other chefs, but when he turned around to look at Sanji he grew considerably more irate. "Oi, don't waste food, Sanji!" He slapped the little squirt for tossing out some leftover telapia. "How many times do I have to smack sense into that head of yours?"_

_Sanji placed his hand on his cheek, smarting—this was the first time he'd been hit. "But, but, it was just telapia!" he lashed back._

Kurt removed his peg leg from Sanji's mouth and turned to his hulking associate, gesturing and giving orders, but the only thing Sanji could hear was a faint ringing in his ears. He wrung his eyes shut and tried mustering the energy to rise, to defend his crew, to…

"_Listen to me, Sanji," said Kurt, crouching down and ruffling his hair. "You know I can immediately sense what part of the world any fish came from by taste alone. Does that sound like something a person who hasn't had his fill of every single species of fish at All Blue could do?"_

"_For all I know those are all lies!" said Sanji. "You're just mocking me!"_

"_That fish you threw out, could very well have come from All Blue! You just threw out a vital clue, my friend!"_

"Uhh, should I pinch this dude again? He's, like, wigging out," said Jamal.

"No. That'd kill him—prematurely. I need to prepare him for the appetizers, so to speak, before we serve the main course. Just go attack the ship, this is practically a third of their real firepower at my feet so it shouldn't be too difficult to subdue them as long as you've got the Orbs."

"Wow, you really know a lot about this crew," said Jamal, scratching his head. "Obsessed much?"

"This is the day I have been waiting for, Jamal, for two long years. Two years of climbing the culinary ladder, two years of skullduggery and deceit as I wrestled to the very top. Time and experience enough to exact the sweetest revenge. Now go already!"

"All right, all right, yeesh. First your damn sea kings gobble up my hounds, then you order me around…" He lit himself a cigar, quite deliberately, and puffed. "I like you, you made a mean three course churrasco and you swore like a sailor for the press even when your interviewers were kids. But, I'm glad you'll be dead soon," he smiled amicably, cracking his knuckles and indulging in a roguish chuckle as he strode down the submarine's spiral staircase. For a man who believed doomsday to be imminent, he sure seemed awfully relaxed about the whole affair.

"You're probably wondering what's going to happen to your precious pirate friends," Kurt coughed, glowering down at Sanji's twitching form with nothing but iron contempt. "Or perhaps you're wondering how I could have survived that night—that night your best buddy Zeff came 'round and killed us all!"

The lines on Kurt's face flared with hatred, all the pain and rage of his years of isolation stranded in the Calm Belt bubbling forth from his subconscious prison.

Zeff… killed them all? Sanji blinked, momentarily unable to speak, but more confused now than worried. It was the freak tempest that capsized his old chef's vessel—Zeff had been looking for loot, to be sure, but the shitty old geezer had proved he was far from a heartless killer when he jumped in after him.

Kurt, feeble though he was, was livid enough to drag Sanji by the leg across the submarine hall's rough grid of obsidian tiles into his kitchen: spacious, futuristic chic, and packed with all sorts of strange utensils that looked more like instruments of torture hanging all over the walls. The only window on the submarine was set here—not so Kurt could survey the fish swimming just out of reach as he cooked to keep him grounded, as he so often told his guests, but so that Black Leg Sanji could get an excellent view of tonight's upcoming events.

Kurt heaved and hauled Sanji's limp form up off the floor and into a chair opposite the window, where he slumped over the sides of the seat. Sanji was certain his crewmates would be more than able to hold their own against whatever goons Kurt had hired. There was, after all, so much about the crew that hardly anybody in the outside world could know. Sanji refused to faint, taking pride in his crew and his captain and relishing the thought of what stunning victories they would shock Kurt with. This defiance must have radiated through his eyes, because Kurt nearly lost it and slammed Sanji in the head with his rolling pin. But then he smiled, or curled his lips upwards, or even more accurately, swung open his maw like the hinges of a snake's jaw snapping open, and he laughed hoarsely, the bitter cackle amplified by his lack of teeth.

"Look outside, Black Leg," he said, pulling some small levers adjacent the room's stove. "What do you see, son?"

The submarine, still attached by its spider-like iron legs to the hull of Thousand Sunny, rotated as subtly as Kurt could manage towards the location his "fishing boat" had treaded not two hours ago.

The fog had lifted. Sanji reeled—if you squinted you could make out the silhouette of a dome-like ship in the distance.

"Our weather machine," he gloated. "The oncoming storm. Lucky lucky!"

However, he didn't know that Fasmidi hadn't had the opportunity to slip off and surreptitiously cross the sea in her hybrid form back towards the weather machine to steer it closer to the Straw Hat ship as planned. He wondered what was taking her so long to bring it closer—perhaps in her arrogance she overestimated her own prowess at maneuvering the thing. If that was the case then he could use one of his sea kings to nudge the ship over, but he wanted the element of surprise, and there was absolutely no one within a ten furlong radius who could possibly fail to notice a gigantic Calm Belt sea king, even if it only poked its head up over the surface.

In any case, Kurt pressed on organizing his work station by the sink, whistling weirdly all the while. He glanced back at the window periodically while he began delicately picking the spines out of raw fish. Sure enough, eventually a bright white flash illuminated the night sky.

"And so it begins!" Kurt practically chirped. He flipped a few more levers and twisted some knobs by the wall, and the submarine detached and scooted away, her occupants having already crossed the threshold to assault the Straw Hats. "Looks like I'll have to lend a helping hand, though. Bother."

Kurt pounded a large yellow button near the dishwasher. The "fishing boat" on top of the submarine revealed itself to be a sound dish—it could emit sonar, and it could ring like a bell.

The clang of the bell invaded Sanji's already muddled mind and caused him to nearly choke with shock, to say nothing of when the earthworm sea king issued and tugged the Kakisto towards Sunny with one smooth whip of its serpentine body. The resultant wave tipped Sunny dangerously close to capsizing, but she was resilient enough to stay stable.

"And now," Kurt said, fiddling with the controls to turn the sub around 180 degrees to face the battle. "Now we watch!"

Sanji could only see by the light of Usopp's mist-flies since the wind was picking up so fiercely, but it was all too easy to see that the crew was in trouble. It was a free-for-all of deadly proportions, and Sanji could do nothing to stop them.

"Hmm, you want to know what's going on, right?" said Kurt, having resumed preparing his mystery meal. Chop chop chop went the trout, chop went the catfish and the tuna, each fish expertly sliced and diced with increased intensity as Kurt's sarcasm was smoldering and building steam, soon to erupt right back into full-blown hatred once more. "You're dying to know why I hate you so bad, right? Well stay awake because it's going to take a while. Tonight it's going to be dinner, and a show."


	5. All Blue

**Chapter 5: All Blue**

Kurt may have teased Sanji over All Blue. It was a silly old fable fit only for a North Blue children's storybook, like that Noland the Liar. But in his heart of hearts, he too held out hope that a place so fantastical—a chef's paradise—could exist, somewhere, tucked away in one of the four corners of the globe, just waiting for the intrepid cook worthy enough to uncover its riches.

Kurt wanted to travel the world. He wanted to leave, to make a name for himself. But he was afraid to admit it. And he was afraid he might fail if he tried.

**THE NIGHT OF THE STORM**

_Kurt couldn't look back. He swam and swam and swam. The titanic waves tossed him back and forth but he was on autopilot now, to avoid facing the horrifying fact that absolutely everybody he knew—colleagues, friends, drinking buddies, even his good-for-nothing supervisor—they were all being dragged down to the bottom of the ocean, by the wreckage of the restaurant ship they'd given their all to maintain._

_Through sheer luck, Kurt found himself dragged off into the nearby Calm Belt. He floated serenely across the perfectly still water, though he might have been mistaken for a corpse, bloated with seawater as he was, were he not spluttering up and wheezing and spitting up phlegm and excreting yet another sort of bodily fluid from his eyes._

_All that was left was waiting for a sea king to make him its lunch. The jaws of death could snap up at any moment. Seabirds circled in the scorching sun. Kurt didn't blink for hours, staring at the islandless horizon. This was "the world," he thought bitterly._

_He wanted them to claim him. The jaws of death. Waiting was hell, the uncertainty aching. And with nothing else to think about, his thoughts returned to his crew again and again. Even little Sanji, who dreamed his selfsame dream, was the first to go. The seas had no mercy._

_Kurt drank of the seawater. He couldn't let himself drown; even if his psyche screamed for it, his body demanded sustenance and his soul shook indifferent. The sun beat his face red and flaky._

_Finally his eyes drew closed. Dreams overtook him. The angry red disk high above seemed to blink off, once he started sinking. The seawater filled him up. He would join his friends in heaven soon, once he dropped to the bottom, sank through to the planet's core, and emerged on the other side of the globe, where paradise lay._

_A sea king had different designs for Kurt. It would rather Kurt find solace in its stomach._

_His survival instinct overrode his existential ennui._

_The sea king was a small one by Calm Belt standards, but all the fiercer for it. Had Kurt not thrust away, he would have lost much more than a leg._

_Red. Beautiful red. Far from debilitated, Kurt grew incensed; the deep crimson defeated the blue._

_The sea king did not bite him. He bit the sea king. He chomped on for dear life and did not yield to the serpent's wild bucking. With every tooth he lost he only dug through the sea king's flesh all the deeper, until he'd torn out a small chunk of its hide, destroying his teeth completely. The red flowed and dribbled but he ate. He was a beast now. His heart forfeit to feral ambition._

_Somehow he survived. Perhaps the king was used to easier prey. Perhaps he had earned the neptunian's grudging respect. In any case, the winding Calm Belt firstling dropped him off at a deserted island and bowed out with a farewell flourish of its enormous tail fin, the shower of brine baptizing Kurt's lonely second life._

_A whole archipelago brimming with wildlife awaited his sore eyes if only he would look back. But he himself felt barren. Was this turn of fate really so lucky?_

_He still had nothing._

_Yes. The curse of the seas. It was the curse of the wide, vast, unending blue of the seas._

"_All Blue." He laughed blood, laughed and laughed until he was dizzy. All Blue was no paradise. Its allure was the honeyed trap of this twisted world._

_The blue, this ceaseless, all-encompassing blue, it seared his brain, a blight on his eyes. The maddening calm, the featureless plane of water, it called out for his death, reminding him: any day now, and you will lose yourself._

_But it all made sense now. In his heart he had harbored All Blue. So had Sanji. This was the punishment for their hubris. They both deserved to die._

_For Kurt was all but dead. He crawled and ate of fragrant leaves, but they held no flavor—he had imbibed so much seawater that his taste buds were dampened, and everything that passed through his lips became bitter._

_He fashioned himself a new leg out of wood. He built himself a life from scratch, but still he felt only emptiness._

_Cooking was his only respite from grief and indifference. He still loved to cook. And the smell of his cuisine attracted surrounding sea kings. They would be his only companionship for he knew not how many years. He fed them dishes made from recipes he invented using just ingredients from his chain of islands, of which he was the sole human. Eventually addiction addled these sea kings and they became beholden to Kurt for meals. It was a simple purpose, but it was better than total listlessness. It was better than staring at the odious expanse of blue._

**TWO YEARS AGO**

_As luck would have it._

_The first word Kurt wheezed in weeks, maybe even months._

"_S-sanji?"_

_The stray bounty poster, borne to Kurt's nowhere by a lost news coo, was one of the eight posters of the Straw Hat Pirates that landed on his stretch of beach._

_The revelation broke over Kurt like trickling confusion._

_Sanji? The All Blue kid? He's a pirate now!_

_He was alive. And well. If a bit ugly, by the looks of the photo._

_He survived. Relief flooded him. What insane luck that blessed boy ha—_

_He became a pirate. Just like Red Leg Zeff, who brought the storm._

_The little bastard spat on the memory of every single one of his comrades who lost their lives on that boat._

_Kurt's face quickly turned red._

_What a cosmic joke. What a mockery of justice. Kurt suffered while that traitor Sanji lived the high life. Kurt didn't deserve his fate, he realized: all that mattered was luck, luck, luck._

_The poster crumpled in Kurt's gnarled hands. The cad had grown up ugly. There was some justice in the world. But then…_

_Kurt glanced into his reflection by the gentle waves of the shore. He had not aged well. He was hardly recognizable._

_A plan. The water grinned._

_It was time Kurt escaped his prison and pursued his dream. He would reverse his luck. He came by the Calm Belt by luck, and now it was finally time he headed into the Grand Line. Into Paradise._

_His sea kings would not be able to withstand Grand Line weather for a very long time. Once he reached an island—any old island would do—he would bid his companions adieu as they returned to their ancestral waters. And then he would work his body and mind to their limits every waking hour, and ascend to the top of the chef's world by any means necessary._

_The plan was totally, utterly insane. But he was determined that he should rise to a higher position than Sanji._

"Picture it, Black Leg scumbag," said Kurt. "At last I start working my way up the culinary food chain, with no sense of taste, no ability to chew, no contact with humans for just under a decade, and no connections. And just around when I become confident I can do it, you and your crew drop off the map."

He punctuated this with a particularly strong chop. He paused.

"My luck had run out. I almost gave up on my revenge."

He shivered, as though his revenge was his reason for existing.

"But I triumphed over those misgivings. I jealously accumulated contacts, information. I learned there was no reason to believe you were dead. And I planned. What is the most fitting end for this man, I thought? Can you guess what I came up with, son?"

Sanji sat transfixed.

"I'm going to make you an All Blue, son!" he chuckled. "On this submarine is damn near every fish species in the Blues. I'm sure you won't mind if you're cooked alongside them! You'll make a grand All Blue Fishcake with a savory side of peanuts and just a touch of alfalfa."


	6. The Sun, It Shall Shine Again

**Chapter 6: The Sun, It Shall Shine Again**

The flash bang heralded the surprise attack of the Devil Dare Society. They exploited the blinding glare to hide in strategic spots all over the ship, except for Falstaff, who zipped straight for his nemesis-to-be.

As such, Zoro, as ever, was the first to disappear.

"Zo-Zoro!" Usopp gasped, blinking rapidly as the light faded. Not again!

But this time Usopp didn't waver; he brandished his sling shot and scouted the area for enemies. "Wh-who are you? Where are you?"

Luffy had just stuffed the girl bug in a jar when it happened. "What was that light? What's going on!" He immediately raised his dukes and cast his eyes all over the ship. He focused his Color of Observation but the sonar of the Bitter Pill caused him to clasp his ears in pain, dropping the jar. And shattering it.

Then Kurt's sea king carried the Kakisto over to kick up tremendous winds and mists, allowing the Devil Dare Society members to stake out their targets without getting discovered.

"Stand back Luffy, I'm used to smokescreens, and I've got one of them in my sights!" said Usopp, pulling back his Black Kabuto and aiming at the foremast, where he could just barely make out the figure of a hulking man clambering up the pole like a monkey towards Nami's location on the crow's nest. The monster winds filled out the ship's sails to capacity but didn't affect the man at all. Nevertheless, Usopp proved his mettle as a sharpshooter par excellence by hitting him dead center, despite winds that would have sent lesser snipers ducking for cover. "Green Star: Vine Tendril Shot!"

Jamal toppled, entangled in a straightjacket of vines and totally caught by surprise, but before Usopp could seal the deal he was lifted up off the ground by the throat.

"Impressive!" sang Fasmidi, luxuriating in her hybrid form. "Those eyes of yours are truly sharp enough to befit one with the potential to be great."

Usopp gargled in her grasp, kicking and struggling, terrified by the glowing green spheres analyzing him coldly.

"However, my eyes see all," she boasted, and she tossed Usopp as hard as she could towards Jamal without injuring either of them. "I know how much you hate snipers, Jamal. Have fun."

Jamal exerted his herculean strength and broke free of the vines. Then he retrieved a small crystalline orb from one of the pouches on his jacket. "Just add water," he recalled, grinning. Usopp was still dazed, and soon found himself stuck in a head lock.

"No!" Chopper transformed into his Horn Point and charged at Jamal blindly, relying on his sense of smell.

But Jamal had already lugged Usopp with him over the edge of the ship hurtling into the ferocious waves. Chopper rammed against the side of the ship and fell in after them.

This was bad. Luffy gritted his teeth and rubbed at his eyes. He couldn't Gatling, he couldn't risk hurting his own crew. He called up: "Namiiiii! Can you clear the fog!"

"I'm on it!" Nami spun her baton dexterously in her fingers.

Fasmidi scuttled on all six up towards Nami and jumped against the air, arresting Nami in her alien clutches before she could affect the weather in any way. "You interfere, she dies!"

But Nami was not about to become a hostage. "Thunder tempo!"

With a brilliant flash that pierced a pocket of the fog, the lightning coursed through Fasmidi's body, causing her to let go and drop against the violently billowing sails; Nami had gotten so skilled she could avoid electrocuting herself even at point blank range.

Not the type to waste time patting herself on the back, Nami was climbing down the ladder as fast as she could to aid her captain. However, a man appeared to be materializing from the fabric of the sails as Fasmidi struggled to recover beside him, scaring Nami witless.

"HOW DARE YOU!" he screamed, grasping for her, half man, half cloth. He managed to grab her and dunk her into the waves just in the nick of time before Franky's missiles could intercept (he had been aiming for the sail on which Fasmidi lay but missed).

"Brook, play louder!" said Franky. "The sound is breaking against the sonar that's confusing Luffy's senses!"

"Okay!" Brook drowned out the roar of the winds with a finger-flaying guitar solo, or at least it would have flayed his fingers if he had any skin to begin with! But the skull joke remained in Brook's skull. Unfortunately for Luffy and the rest of the crew, Brook was the next to be taken into the abyss, manhandled by yet another Devil Dare coward who snuck up on him from behind.

"It's time we settled the score once and for all, Brook!"

That voice! Could it be?

Brook's voice was cut off by the water but he held his guitar close to his chest.

"Dammit, I won't let this happen again! Everybody stick to the sides!" said Luffy, biting his thumb: if he couldn't pinpoint any of his opponents, then he'd have to scare them into submission. "Gear Third!"

Luffy's arm grew to roughly the size of the ship and began probing around for Fasmidi, who it seems had slipped off.

"Robin, tether everyone's feet to the deck by the ankles!" shouted Franky.

"I can't, where are y—"

Her voice disappeared, muffled by her attacker. Franky stumbled after her but he too was soon restrained and pulled hard and fast to the floor, by what he did not know. All he could hear next was the splash of the sea as Robin was taken with everyone else.

"WHERE ARE YOU BASTARDS!" Luffy screamed, bashing his huge arm every which way.

Suddenly a powerful vacuum sucked Sunny towards the weather machine—so powerful it even robbed Luffy of much of the air inflating his arm. He flew into an opening in the dome of the machine like a rag doll while Franky remained pinned.

Fasmidi and Kurt's joint plan had gone off with nary a hitch.

Air soon returned to Luffy's lungs, and groggily he surveyed his new surroundings. He was lying face up on a rotating gear, trapped inside a barque-sized transparent dome. The machine was full of fans, with a huge one spinning and oscillating at the very top. The dome was structured with cutting-edge technology that let the fans and various suction chutes of the machine manipulate the air outside the seemingly solid dome through a matrix of microscopic pores in its surface. Down below spun a massive whirlpool of seawater, powering the whole contraption.

Luffy clutched his straw hat to his hair and panted, relieved it hadn't flown away. He was still buffeted by winds on all sides but stood his ground as he got back on his feet, his unbuttoned sequin shirt flapping like a cape.

"ZORO! NAMI!" Luffy called futilely. "Anybody in here? Usopp, can you hear me! S-Sanji?" He remembered Sanji had been lured away earlier. "SAAAAANJIIIIIII!"

"You'll see them all very shortly."

Fasmidi had emerged from within the core control center tucked away inside a jungle of gears, impassable except by insects. "I toggled off the mist setting so you could see for yourself."

A girl? Luffy looked down at her, puzzled—she didn't have the glowing green compound eyes he associated with her voice.

She was wearing a blouse and skirt made of thatched coconut fronds, which served as her pragmatic battle dress in lieu of adequate clothing that would fit her larger hybrid form as well. As a leaf insect, the dress of leaves integrated with her body. She demonstrated this by transforming.

Those eyes! It was her! Luffy quickly put two and two together. "You're the girl bug!"

"I am the one true prophet of the Sea Devil, the Deepest Depth. I am the Heiress of All," she corrected. "My eyes see everything—and yours will too! Behold!"

Huge spherical orbs similar to the dome were bobbing up from under the water one by one, and inside each orb was a distinct arena or platform, with a Straw Hat and a Devil Dare member trapped inside.

"Each orb represents an aspect of ourselves," Fasmidi preached. "When we prove ourselves in honorable combat and demonstrate to the Sea Devil that we are most worthy, we will fulfill our ultimate potential and become the gods of those aspects. And this wonderful machine, Monkey D. Luffy, is part and parcel of the most important of the sacred sacrificial arenas—the Orb of Storm!"

"I don't care about any of that!" Luffy shouted. "If you don't release everyone right now then it won't matter if you're a cool bug, I'll tear you TO PIECES!"

Fasmidi scratched under her right antenna and beat her leafy wings a little. "I'm not surprised a monkey like you has no comprehension of the gravity of your predicament."

"Yeah, well monkeys eat bugs!" said Luffy, pointing. "I know that for a FACT!"

The mist may have lifted outside the orb, but the winds were still swirling in a circular pattern like a hurricane, creating a moderately strong whirlpool that carried every floating orb along by the outer limits. It was to be Sanji's spectacle.

"Tonight is the night against which the sun shall never trespass again. Our Lord is the king of darkness, and he accepts only the strong unto the bosom of his mists," she recited.

"Huh?" Luffy picked his ear. "Of course the sun is gonna rise again! It rises every morning, stupid! Where have you _been?_"


	7. Battle in the Bottle

**Chapter 7: Battle in the Bottle**

"Gum Gum Gatling!" Luffy struck the dome, but his every punch glanced off without leaving so much as a dent. Then he had an idea.

"I'll rip these gears out!" he said.

"I'm afraid I can't let y—"

"Shut up!"

An unexpected wave of Color of the Conqueror haki broadsided her, and she fell to one side.

"What… what is that power!" she gasped.

"Oh, you're still awake?" Luffy's only concern was leaving the dome; he heaved at a nearby lateral gear with all his might, having to sidestep and shuffle along to keep up with the gear he was standing on. "You're pretty strong."

This did not compute. She was supposed to be dominating him. How could her divine eyes have failed her?

Then it clicked. This power, it was meant for her. Davy Jones was testing her.

"Ugh, if only it weren't spinning…" said Luffy. "Maybe I should just jam them?"

Fasmidi used the wind to her advantage, gliding on the breeze with her leaf wings and kicking against the air with four legs to accelerate.

"Gum Gum!" Luffy used the spin of the gear to his advantage: "WHIP!"

Luffy's sweep kick sent her tumbling towards the seawater below, the true hazard of the stage for both Devil Fruit users; however, Fasmidi could stay above the water as long as she ran across it, like Brook. Luffy had no such luck.

Fasmidi kicked off with the wind and quickly ascended back to where Luffy was. She knew now this wasn't going to be a fight she could win easily, and so she didn't advertise her attacks.

"GUM GUM AXE!" Luffy intended to meteor kick her back into the water, but Fasmidi intercepted his leg and dragged him off the ledge of his gear.

Luffy stretched to reach the fan at the very top of the machine and grabbed one of its blades, spinning him and Fasmidi at a 60 degree angle around the enormous contraption.

"GET OFF!" Luffy blasted her with another dose of haki, but she'd already come up with a clever workaround and transformed into her tiny insect form to keep from losing consciousness. In this form she could also stick to surfaces, so when the centrifugal force sent her flying she merely attached herself to the side of the clear dome and climbed up.

Luffy bounced back up towards the biggest fan and tried to jam it from underneath by holding onto the blades, since he wanted to chuck it on her and pin her down for good. But the mechanism of the whole machine was too strong to budge.

Fasmidi morphed back into her hybrid form, which reformed the dress of coconut fronds around her, and tackled Luffy off the top, but Luffy threw off her stabs and swipes with a brief activation of Color of Armaments haki and followed up with a Gum Gum Stamp.

Fasmidi purposefully took the full brunt of the Stamp and hugged Luffy's foot so that when it snapped back she could run him through with her bullet-like claws using his own momentum, forcing Luffy to blow up into a balloon to preempt the strike.

They were equally physically strong, and seemed equally resourceful in combat, except of course for that strange psychic power of his… could it be his D. that lent him such might? She had to squeeze the information out of him somehow. She would do the Devil proud tonight.

Luffy was floating as a balloon, sent every which way by the winds like he was caught in a cyclone. "Gear Third!" He opened up his mouth until it was bigger than the rest of his body and sucked in the gust he was trapped in, transferring the air to his leg and inflating it. This way at the very least he wouldn't drown.

"It's the leg of a giant!" Luffy shouted. "And I'm going to squash you like the stupid bug you are!"

"Leg of a giant, brain of an ant." Fasmidi swooped in for his head, but Luffy saw it coming and drew up his haki shield. It wasn't his head she was gunning for, though.

"My hat!"

Fasmidi slid to a halt on a gear and threatened to throw the hat into the works. "I saw how you checked for your hat before you even thought to call for your friends."

Luffy couldn't transition from Gear Third to Gear Second without pausing, but he could now localize Gear Second to energize a single limb. "Jet Pistol!"

The punch came so fast Fasmidi could barely see it, but then she had four powerful arms and managed to catch the punch. Once again she rode the snapback, and this time Luffy's own speed prevented him from canceling. Fasmidi walloped Luffy hard on the side of the head, his hat on her insectoid head.

The shock and precision of the attack caused Luffy to hack up first blood, and the air in his giant leg gave, causing him to drop precipitously. Luffy would have drowned had he not pushed against the dome with his leg while it was still about twice his size.

Fasmidi seized her chance and struck again while Luffy was still disoriented, kicking him down to the bottom platform by the seawater, which was made of seastone, disabling Luffy's rubber resistance.

"X marks the spot," she laughed as he doubled over, stomping on the X-scar on his chest with a bare foot. Luffy retched blood.

Standing above him on the seastone platform, her Devil Fruit ability was also canceled and she reverted back into her human form: long disheveled purple hair, half-dead eyes, and strength enough to lift an elephant even with her vitality dampened. She adjusted the straw hat over her cascading locks and ground her bare heel on Luffy's newly non-rubber ankle. Stars swam before his eyes and he cried in pain.

Before Luffy could muster up another haki blast Fasmidi grabbed him by his hair and dunked his head and chest into the water, holding him down for fifty seconds.

"Gwah!" Luffy gasped for breath; he was not used to being underwater for any length of time. There was no way he could use his haki like this.

"Now… you're going to tell me about that D. of yours…" Fasmidi purred. "Or we're going to be prolonging this indignity till the moon rolls away."


	8. Excess Funds

**Chapter 8: Excess Funds**

"Ugh…"

Nami came to. The last thing she remembered she was drifting down towards the Locker, and now she was fine? What happened?

She was still wet—can't have been a dream, then. She coughed up a little seawater and felt like hell. Why had she grown her hair out this long, it was sopping…

Her surroundings were beginning to come into focus. The storm was still going strong… funny how she hadn't been able to feel it coming. Maybe she just had to get used to the Grand Line again…

Nami stretched and got up, slowly shedding her disorientation and realizing with some panic that she was no longer on the Sunny.

"Ah, so you're up! My name is Goldweadth Gallant," said a voice. "And I'll be your executioner this fine evening."

This was the Orb of Fasmidi, the first such Aspect Orb Goldweadth had designed. As such the "arena" was simply a flat gray floor which seemed to contain strange vaguely foot-shaped grooves.

"What the…"

"Ah, those are where my replicas of Fasmidi used to stand—they're currently taking care of another one of your friends, I'm afraid."

At those words Nami remembered what had happened—her crew was in trouble!

"What is this!" Her mind snapped back to crystal clarity. She was stuck in a glass sphere, floating in the ocean. "How did I get here!"

Goldweadth sat down and began twiddling his thumbs impatiently.

"Aspect Orbs. They fit in the palm of your hand until they're exposed to seawater. Then they expand and trap in the targets, filtering the water back out. The technology was originally meant to revolutionize the fishing industry, but let's just say I snatched up the patent before it went to market."

"So everybody's trapped in these cages?"

Goldweadth grinned. "Yep. Well, pretty much everyone who matters, anyway. In any case, kindly pick up your staff so I can kill you."

Nami was skeptical. "How could you have afforded to buy such an insanely valuable—"

"Let's just say I'm made of money," he said. "Now pick up the damn staff. Can't have the Sea Devil think the match was unfair. Don't really know his criteria precisely, mind you, but better safe than sorry."

"So you're saying if I don't pick up the staff… then there's no match."

"I figured you might say that. So here's the deal—thing can shoot lightning, right? You'll kill me in no time flat with just a twirl and a kiss goodbye."

"You're going to have to try better than that," said Nami. "I'm a swindler myself, and I wasn't born yesterday."

"Oh come on," he whined, leaning his head against his palm. "All right, how about this: Maybe if you shoot some lightning at the sides of this here orb, you could break through and escape to save your friends. It's your only real option at this rate."

Nami gulped. She crouched down and her fingers reached for the baton. She bit her lip. The moment she touched the thing he would spring in to attack.

Wait. He only knows about the lightning, and clearly he didn't care or seem frightened in the least. That's the attack he was expecting. And Nami didn't think he looked bright enough to be bluffing. He had to be a Logia or a Paramecia to have melded with Sunny's sail like that—a cloth Logia, maybe?

She grabbed the baton and immediately he lunged at her.

"RAIN TEMPO!"

Success! Goldweadth was impeded by the torrential downpour. She knew from Luffy that showers of water didn't activate a Devil Fruit's universal weakness, so it only followed that water was a particular weakness of this Fruit.

"You're some sort of fabric," she surmised, intensifying the precipitation with each flourish of her staff. "You're useless in the rain!"

"Not quite." Goldweadth, though pinned to the floor, was able to shoot out a flurry of metal coins from the palm of his hand at her, knocking the baton out of her hands. "I ate the Fruit Fasmidi gave me, the Kane Kane Fruit!"

"You mean you're _literally_ made of money!" Beli signs appeared in her eyes. She now understood how Sanji felt when he discovered Absalom had partaken of his coveted Fruit.

"How else could I have afforded all this for the Society?" Goldweadth laughed. "It was Dark Providence."

The rain subsided and Goldweadth shook himself dry. Nami made for the climate staff but Goldweadth buried her in a wave of cash.

"Money" couldn't be a Logia type, so that narrowed it down to Paramecia, which Nami could physically harm. Excellent news, but how would she reach her staff now that he was intent on suffocating her with money? Then an idea came to her.

"Fasmidi, did you say her name was? Must be pretty fat and ugly if her 'replicas' made those grooves with each step."

Jackpot. Goldweadth practically lost his mind at that comment. In a rage he unloaded his maximum payload of coins on her, but Nami was saved somewhat by the protection of her bed of cash; she wriggled free and dashed for the staff.

"RAIN TEMPO!"

"Coin Purse!" Goldweadth guarded himself against the downpour with an impromptu shield of golden coins, a single bulbous green eye sticking out.

That eye used to be gold, Nami observed. He must be running out of coin power. Perfect!

But Nami was dismayed to see that Goldweadth had time enough to flip through his wallet and pick out a fresh coin, rubbing it against the tip of a single exposed finger. Apparently this recharged him.

"Touch memory," Goldweadth explained. "So long as I've got the real metals of proper coins on my person, my body can 'memorize' the currency and counterfeit it. Same with the cotton inside paper bills."

"So that's how it works! Thanks for telling me, dumbass!" said Nami.

"What do you mean? There's nothing you can—"

The staff whacked him on the hand, causing him to drop the coin. His hand recognized a new metal, but it wasn't a metal in any currency the Fruit could identify, meaning his power shorted out long enough for Nami to deliver the finishing blows—an armor piercing "love slap" to the cheek, and a kick in the balls for good measure.

Then she sat on his back and set to creating a stable water cycle of constant rain inside the Orb, ordering him to spawn as much paper money for her as possible.


	9. Kingmaker

**Chapter 9: Kingmaker**

The sight of Nami earning her flawless victory cured his speech paralysis instantly. "Melllloooriiiiine!" Hearts bounced off his eyes.

"What, _yadedede_, you think she's okay lover boy?" said Kurt. "Then there's something you have failed to grasp—even if your little friends beat them? They've still lost. There's no way out of those things; hell, they were designed that way. You see they're all a bunch of religious loonies convinced the world will end altogether if and when they win, so why bother making the trap escapable? Your crew's gonna die of starvation sooner rather than later. Even supposing they _do_ escape, my sea kings are at the ready to gobble them up, and they're way too huge to fight. Any way the cookie crumbles, it's me who gets the last laugh."

"You're… you're sick," Sanji slurred. "You need… help."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I'm not the one who needs help here, son."

"Don't have to do this," said Sanji. "We can help you."

"'Don't have to do this'? 'You can help me'? Son… 'this' _is_ me. Now… press your luck…" Kurt grazed his knife against Sanji's ear. "And I just might have to make this unpleasant for you."

Sanji seethed. "They'll win. Somehow. And I will make that kid…" he coughed.

"What? What will you make that imbecile?" snapped Kurt.

"King of the Pirates," he said with a **DON**.

"Now there's some premium grade storybook bullshit."

Inside the Orb of Jungle, Chopper and Usopp faced off against Jamal the Hunter.

"Don't know who to kill first!" Jamal guffawed. "The coward or the beast!"

Jamal squared on them. "I wonder which of you two pathetic animals will run away first."

"Usopp, please cover me!" said Chopper. "I'll scout for his weaknesses!"

Chopper placed two hooves together like a frame and focused.

"Hahah, he's cute," said Jamal. "Never seen a talking animal in my day, but I suppose there's a first for everything. And funnily enough, on the end of the world."

Usopp readied another Vine Tendril Star, but Jamal swatted Usopp away from his prey with amazing speed. Usopp landed smack dab against the trunk of a tree.

"Hate snipers," he spat. "I'm a bodyguard by day, poacher by night. And only cowards pick things off from the sidelines. The manly thing is to feel the life of an animal ebb away in your very hands."

"Usopp! His weak point is—"

Jamal lifted Chopper up by the throat and nerve pinched him. "Good thing you're human enough in this form to have that nerve there, otherwise you would probably have transformed already and I wouldn't have gotten to stuff your *cute* face and place it above my mantle."

"U—sopp…" Chopper managed to blurt out; it seemed the method for him was imperfect.

"Do you see now how useless it is to resist your fate, when you're a weakling?" said Jamal. "In any case, were it not the end of humanity tonight I might have been stuck in my old quandary—to sell or to choke. You're a talking animal so you would have fetched I don't know many millions of beli out on the black market. But I probably would have still choked the life out of you, come to think of it. You've just got one of those faces, I guess."

A green powder smacked Jamal in the face. "Was that supposed to do something, weakling?"

"You talk too much!" Usopp had recovered somewhat and was training yet another Green Star at him. "You love killing animals, let's see how well you do against plants! Love Tree Scissor!" Usopp chopped through the air enthusiastically.

The green powder was actually thousands of tiny seeds that had dusted the jungle soil beneath Jamal's feet and ravenously devoured the forest's nutrients to shoot up in a lightning-fast spike trap of love trees (twin trees connected at the base), causing Jamal to drop Chopper from his death grip.

"I've gotcha buddy!" Usopp caught Chopper in his arms and fell back on his knees.

"His skin is like a tank… Only weak point… His liver… Aim for it…" Chopper coughed. Jamal was already managing to free himself of some of the binding branches.

"Yosh!" Usopp tied a vine around his neck to protect against a nerve pinch.

"Taking orders from a pet?" Jamal sneered, still struggling to break free of his prison. "Shouldn't be surprised, one good look at you and I can tell you've never had the chutzpah it takes to be your own captain. All you can ever be is a follower! It makes me sick! A weakling like you, thinking he can take me down!"

"I fight for the king," said Usopp, as he sat down to concoct his ultimate explosive. "That's all I need."

Jamal was perplexed at first—a pirate fighting for a king? But then he remembered Usopp's bounty poster; his alter ego was "Sogeking."

"So you hide behind a mask. Don't want to be hunted by Marines, right?" Jamal spat. "Pathetic. Once I get my hands on you you'll suffer the brutal end you deserve. And then you'll die knowing who the true king is!"

Jamal finally ripped free and within a split second landed a blow to Usopp's head that would have pulverized anyone else. But Usopp didn't step back an inch. His feet were rooted to the soil!

"What the—" Soon Jamal's feet were joined to Usopp's.

"I had to make sure you wouldn't hurt Chopper while my plan took effect," Usopp explained, as the plant snare entwined their lower bodies. "You were expecting me to run, perhaps? I'd hardly be a brave warrior of the sea if I left the crewmate behind me exposed to danger!" said Usopp with a **DON**.

"But now I can pummel you as many times as I like!" Jamal subjected Usopp to a savage flurry of punches. Usopp reeled from the pain, but he refused to back down.

"I thought you fought for the 'king,' why are you sacrificing yourself!" said Jamal.

"I am fighting for the king…" Usopp proudly declared. "The king… of the seas… the Pirate King… my captain, Monkey D. Luffy!"

"That's even more pathetic! Your life is worth nothing compared to his! So you're just a pawn, is that it?"

"Wrong again. I'm his KNIGHT!"

Usopp had figured out that Jamal wouldn't try to escape the trap right away if it meant he had the opportunity to brutalize the long nose, which gave the plant the time it needed to wind its way up to Jamal's liver and carefully inject Usopp's poison.

Jamal yelped with agony. Had Usopp merely aimed all his explosive pellets at Jamal's liver, the hunter would simply have deflected the projectile with a slap of his gorilla-like arms. This was the only way to incapacitate him for good.

Jamal's survival instinct took over and his eyes went totally white with rage, adrenaline magnifying his muscles to terrifying proportions. Jamal thought the only way to survive this was to kill Usopp and trigger the endtimes. "DIE!"

Usopp braced for impact. This punch would surely kill him, but at least he'd rescued Chopper…

"Roseo!" Chopper saved Usopp with a last-second hoof stomp to the back of Jamal's head, knocking him cold—he'd brilliantly aimed for the adrenaline center of the brain, even while Chopper himself was running on pure adrenaline. He quickly collapsed back into his Brain Point form, tongue lolling, barely able to move.

"Hold on, Chopper!" Usopp tended to Chopper's wounds, bandaging him up with efficiency and precision. "That okay? You feeling better?"

Chopper giggled—it was like the reverse of their fight in Alabasta. "Thank you, Usopp."

"No problem, just relax—"

"Actually, Usopp, you're supposed to tell me to stay awake so I don't go into…"

And Chopper did stay awake, schooling Usopp on medical minutiae for so long that Usopp entertained the notion of just bonking him on the head anyway.


	10. Shame on the Blade

**Chapter 10: Shame on the Blade**

Trapped within the Orb of Blades, the two swordsmen circled each other, eyes on each other's blades, eyes on each other's hands.

Naturally, the interior arena of the Orb was built to Falstaff's advantage. It was a flat disk of a battlefield alongside whose edges stood up dozens of blades that snaked along the surface of the Orb, a stage hazard that meant there could be no dodging. It was to be a duel of short distance attacks, a close quarters clash of glancing sabers.

Zoro asked no questions. He knew only that there existed before his eyes an enemy to the crew, to the future pirate king, and that enemy had to die. Falstaff, on the other hand, ran his mouth like no tomorrow.

"They call you Pirate Hunter, do they not?" Falstaff drawled. "How ironic a man like you should become a pirate himself."

"Anything it takes," Zoro said, "to spread my name across the heavens."

"So you would throw aside your principles for fame?" said Falstaff. "I admire your candor, pirate. I myself am a vagabond at heart… but I have been bound to my estate, by my responsibilities to society. I've only just switched societies."

Falstaff's thumb caressed the hilt of his blade, and it popped a little from its sheath.

Zoro licked his lips and bit on his sword's handle.

"A sword in your mouth, is that your handicap?" asked Falstaff. "How inventive! Normally I can only come up with the standard fare by way of handicaps: not moving one foot, one eye closed, et cetera et cetera. But always I end up scoring the kill more quickly than I'd like, it's a shame, really."

Zoro smirked at the mention of one eye closed; was he trying to get Zoro to spill on his eye? The other two swords soon shed their sheathes and glinted in Zoro's hands. "Let's just get this over with."

"Confident, are we?" Falstaff drew his sword, not a katana but a strange serrated dao designed to catch, deflect and destroy katanas. But never would he have guessed Pirate Hunter Zoro was proficient in a style that used three katanas. "Interesting. _Engarde!"_

Because of the arena of blades, Zoro didn't have all the room to move he would have liked, so at first he tried to slash them away. But it had no appreciable effect.

"They're seastone," said Falstaff. "You just can't beat that stuff. If it wasn't so heavy it'd make for an indestructible sword material."

Damn. To hit the proper stances, Zoro needed plenty of space—swordsmanship was just as much about footwork as it was about swinging blades.

More often than not Zoro could gauge his opponent just by subtle cues in his expression, but outwardly Falstaff appeared completely indifferent, as though he was so prodigious and wealthy he'd never faced a serious challenge in his life.

Zoro aimed to change that. "Three Sword Style: Three Thousand Worlds!"

Zoro spun his swords to gale force speed, his ultimate finisher. He was banking on his opponent's reluctance to step within range of the blades. But Falstaff thrust forward and jammed the technique. Falstaff deftly raised his dao up and flung Zoro's heaviest blade, Shuusui, out of Zoro's grasp. The black sword clattered outside the perimeter of blades, meaning he could no longer use it during the course of the duel.

Tch! Zoro couldn't read him at all.

"Is that all you've got? How boring. I guess I'll have to make my sword a little duller." Falstaff started picking his teeth with his sword.

Zoro narrowed his eyes. "That sword must hate you, if you disrespect it so remorselessly."

"'Disrespect?' What on earth are you talking about? Swords are merely tools. As soon as this battle is over I will discard it for a better blade, more suited to whatever task is at hand."

Zoro grimaced. The man was insanely rich, so rich he could not see the true value of his blades. No wonder Zoro couldn't read him: he was so emotionless as to be barely human. "Do you feel nothing for a sword that's been at your side through countless battles?"

"No."

"Hmph." Zoro smirked and closed his eyes. "And they call _me_ a devil."

Falstaff lunged forward once again with frightening speed, but this time Zoro was ready for him and parried; with just two swords against one, they seemed evenly matched. Neither could find an opening for the kill.

Falstaff seemed surprised, even scared. He was almost happier to finally find a worthy opponent than he was at the idea of deification.

Zoro surmised that the fewer swords he had to focus on, the more of an edge he had against Falstaff, since he could more accurately determine which attacks worked and which didn't. And so he sheathed the cursed sword Sandai Kitetsu and relied on his most treasured blade, Kuina's blade, Wado Ichimonji. They resumed combat and sure enough, Zoro was gaining the upper hand, pushing Falstaff back a half-step towards the unwelcoming floor-blades with each parry and swing.

Falstaff, now in a full-blown panic, switched his fighting style to his most dastardly, a swordsman's shameful last resort—deliberately seeking to sever the enemy's sword instead of the enemy himself. As far as Zoro was concerned, this tactic was the lowest of the low and a blatant disgrace to the swordsman's way. Wado Ichimonji was strong and full of the spirit of life, and this was beneath her.

Zoro had no choice but to turn his blade away from this palpable shame; he held her by the blade and blocked Falstaff's attacks with the hilt, winning more effortlessly than ever. It seemed the more handicaps Zoro placed on himself, the better he fared.

Falstaff was utterly humiliated, defeated without question by the hilt of a katana. He fell to his knees and was about to beg for mercy, but Zoro ended his life before the first word could be uttered. This, he believed, was the only way the shame on Falstaff's blade could be absolved.

Zoro affectionately sheathed Wado and Shuusui before sitting beside Falstaff's bleeding corpse, clasping his hands and furrowing his brows in meditation.


	11. Trash

**Chapter 11: Trash**

"Usopp, Chopper… You won!"

Sanji kept mum on Zoro.

"Hmm, I suppose you're not a famous pirate crew for nothing," admitted Kurt, stroking his chin as he set about a dozen pots of water to boil.

"It's not because… we're a famous pirate crew," said Sanji. It's because we're a family, Kurt. We win, because we fight together."

Kurt snorted. "You win because of luck. Which you've plum run out of, judging from the fact that no matter how hard they try, they're all still doomed. That being said, I'd prefer it if you could witness at least one of your crewmates suffering a devastating loss. Oh, I know! Let's take you back to your ship for a second. I hope your cyborg isn't already dead."

Kurt rang the boat bell, and a sea king eclipsed the moon, slobbering at the mouth. It craned its neck down and stuck its huge eye at the submarine's sole window.

"Yes yes, you will get your meal shortly sweetheart," Kurt promised. "I'm still preparing it. Oh, I should probably explain," he turned to Sanji. "Her name's Tyrell, and she's taken something of a taste to human flesh. Poor girl can't stop salivating whenever she sees me, partly because of my cooking, partly because she can barely restrain herself from tearing me to shreds. That's why you're going into the pie, son," he laughed. "You can talk all you like about 'family,' but in the end it's a dog eat dog world we're living in. Those fights you just watched are proof of that. The food chain—that's the natural order."

The sea king ducked back under and lifted the submarine on its head; the metal stilts wrapped around its snout like a harness.

"The natural order?" said Sanji. "What a croc. You're more adaptable than anyone, just find your happiness and stick to it."

"Happiness is impossible for me," said Kurt. "So I'm settling for the next best thing: revenge. Towards the ship, Tyrell!"

The bell chimed.

Sunny swayed and shook as dozens of insectoid robots attempted to rip into her. Even her Adam Wood couldn't take the abuse of their scrabbling steel claws and mandible pincers forever, and if they persisted the coating would come right off.

Holding on to a dangling steel cable, Franky pried one off her hull and chucked it into the ocean, but it was no use—the robot simply swam back to the ship and recommenced doing everything in its power to scrap Sunny into a million pieces.

"So amusing," Ushao clucked, as he sat on Sunny's lawn, surveying the metal head thug's futile efforts to salvage his ship for the worthless cause of ferrying yet another wannabe pirate king to his doom. "It's all for nothing, you know. Soon this planet will vanish and the seas will surge and swallow everything. All your little friends are no doubt getting pummeled into submission as we speak. And the scraps of your ship's Adam Wood shall be repurposed as the pillars of my glorious palace."

"Oh? So why don't you man up and take me on yourself, you scrawny little nothing?" Franky seethed, having been forced to expend some of his shoulder missiles taking out a single insect-droid.

"Simply because I don't have to. You're not part of the sacrifice scheme, boring as that is. You are deemed 'not human.'"

"Damn straight! I'm beyond human!" said Franky. "Oh shi—" Two insect-droids had dug their claws into his chest and were dragging him down off the side of the hull into the ocean.

"No, you are below human. Though do not be mistaken and assume it is because of your iron body that you are so judged. It is because you are filthy Water 7 vermin."

"What did you say!" Franky struggled against the Fasmibots and tried to climb back up the cable, but another insectoid robot was chewing on the upper end.

"Oh come now. Surely while you were in charge of the Franky Family (by dint of being the smelliest rat of the whole sad lot), even your train wreck of a nose could sniff the coattails of my family's famous scrappers."

"You mean you're with those Government stooges who tried to ruin Water 7 while Tom worked his hardest to patch the city up!" said Franky, absolutely incensed.

"Your beloved city was a shithole even after the Sea Train started up," said Ushao, now enjoying a pork sandwich without a care in the world. "We were just repossessing the more beautiful remnants of the Old City before you simians could ruin them. My folks in particular would throw their weight around to get the features and landmarks of the city scrapped for display as exhibits to make our estate's garden just a little more lavish. Rest assured it was quite pretty, really–well except for my exhibit. You see my exhibit featured the cherished possessions of thugs like you, from whom we could steal with impunity. I want you to imagine every moment you've ever laughed in your life, and then I want you to imagine my friends and I laughing ten times as hard every time we went to go look at all the stupid trinkets you would call treasures—things like lockets of lost loved ones. As though street urchins could ever be loved!"

Ushao laughed and laughed, a warped chortle that reverberated across all of Franky's circuits and fueled him with pure indignation. However, the cable snapped in Franky's hands, and Franky couldn't use Strong Right because that arm was being gnawed away at with alarming speed. He plunked into the ocean, and only his buoyant shoulder pads preventing him from sinking to his doom having to contend with a dog pile of robots ripping into him.

"Eat this!" said Franky, firing one his last missiles at Ushao, but one of the Fasmibots on board intercepted the missile and took the brunt of the explosion. Ushao poked his head over the edge of the ship to drive the needle further.

"Your ship sucks, too, did you know that? Oh, sorry, for a second I forgot how miniscule your brain is, and how you're incapable of knowing things."

"My ship sucks, does it?" said Franky, a diabolical plan forming in his mind. "Well how do you figure?"

"There's nothing _grandiose_ about it. Sure, you have a nice lawn, but where are all the rare flowers? Where's the _art_ of it all? What a boring, boring ship." Another bite of his sandwich. "You ought to feel ashamed."

"That a fact? Well I must say our conceptions of shame must be quite different, because from where I'm standing I create art through technology and practical efficiency, and all you do is just steal shit that ain't yours."

"You tiresome wretch, just drown already." Ushao blew a whistle and two more Fasmibots jumped overboard to join their brethren in finally Lockering Franky.

"Thank you very much!" With some effort Franky stuck the claws of the robots underneath and around each other's arms, causing a tangle they weren't designed to be able to extricate themselves from. That was five of the twelve robots down. "You were saying about my miniscule brain?"

Ushao's mouth twitched a little, but then he remembered there was still no way the huge lug could possibly come back on board. "That's all right, the other robots are doing a fine job cracking the Adam Wood shell of your shitty ship."

"Ah, about that shitty ship… can any old ship do this?" Franky placed a hand on the side of the ship and pushed down on a panel, causing each of the steel rappelling cables embedded all around the ship to deploy. Franky swung from cable to cable and jumped back on board.

However, there were still seven other Fasmibots to destroy, and he was out of ammo.

"Only one recourse left."

Franky ripped open his chest cavity even as his circuits spluttered and short circuited and rummaged inside, each subtle movement of his worksman's fingers causing untold pain, but he grinned and bore it.

Ushao grew more wary and drew his sword, approaching cautiously; this man was not the type to simply kill himself, and any explosion the cyborg might trigger would definitely destroy his precious ship. Ushao placed the hilt of the sword to his lips and played it like a harmonica.

The robots heard the call and ceased attempting to break the ship, instead drawing towards the source of the noise inaudible by humans, rounding up around Franky and Ushao. Franky could discern the screech only faintly, but just enough to understand it was a command to forget the wood and devour metal instead.

"This here is the vaunted Blade of al Nimivea," he boasted, brandishing the sword up high against the sun, letting her immaculate steel taste salt for the first time. "Long lost. Thought apocryphal. I didn't even tell Falstaff I'd found it; he would have murdered me in my sleep for it the first chance he got. Such is its might, its majesty. Something a scrapper like you and your precious family would have killed for without a second thought."

The Blade of al Nimivea, the legendary sword of Lib al Nimivea, Princess of the Sound Palace Memema, whose last stand against the combined forces of the inchoate World Government centuries ago was carried down throughout the ages to anti-Government malcontents all over the four corners of the globe. And the Franky Family was no exception.

"The whistle-blade forged by al Nimivea herself, which was said to be able to bend and distort the armor and weapons of entire enemy armies through just the power of music if played properly. She'd wanted to sabotage Pluton with it, but ultimately failed. There's just no beating divine pedigree, huh?" he laughed, clearly reveling in the prospect of becoming a demigod ruler of a new World Government.

Ushao believed that the unbroken lineage of Celestial Dragons was indeed sanctified and made holy by any number of capricious gods, but he also believed that the Sea Devil was the highest and most powerful deity, and that no humans had ever successfully curried his favor despite countless sacrifices made by seamen to honor the ocean, and rigid adherence to superstition, all to stave off the stormy wrath of the waves.

"How deliciously ironic. I'm going to be using the very saber which caused the World Government to quake in its boots to do you in and usher in our Final Global Reign. Now that you're only so much junk I doubt you'll even mind if I offer you down to the Sea Devil; in fact even that is leagues above the station you deserve. So why don't you just sit still and contemplate how completely you failed your crew while I butter up your metal for my hungry robots!"

"Where did you find that thing!" asked Franky, stalling for time as he continued rummaging in his chest cavity, grimacing all the while. "Wait. Let me guess. You found it scrapping ship wrecks off the ice floes of Baldimore."

"Wha-what!"

"Haha, biiiingo! Well, this may be disheartening news for you, but that toy you're holding couldn't hold a candle to the real Blade of al Nimivea."

"How can this be?" The song of the blade was indeed doing nothing to melt away Franky's metal body.

"You didn't by any chance happen to hear of a certain Legend of the Burning Tiger during your stay in Baldimore, oh most high one," Franky mocked. "Well guess what? That was ME. Turns out that, apart from my favorite hobbies of burning and being a tiger, I also dabbled pretty heavily in inventing and gadgetry. And guess who forged that very blade?"

"N-no…"

"Y-yes," Franky countered. "Yours truly. That is not technology that would cause me to quake in fear. That blade you hold in such high regard, my dear friend, is my _trash_. Now would you like to see some truly impressive technology?"

Franky finally ripped out his power core, holding the pulsating blue box aloft.

Comprehension dawning on his face, Ushao blanched and grew flustered. He could not understand why anybody would want to save their ship so badly. "It's just a ship! Not even the Adam Wood is worth giving your life for!"

"She's not _just a ship_, and would you shut it? There's no such thing as _just a ship._ She's my treasure, my dream, AND MY PARTNER IN CRIME!" he said with a **DON.**

Franky crushed the core between his fingers, causing a powerful electromagnetic shockwave to fry the Fasmibots' circuits. "Besides, who said I was dying? Don't you know who I am? I'm…" Franky locked his rectangular arms together and formed the trademark blue star. "SUUUUUUUPEEEEER!"

"This—this can't be happening…" Ushao crumpled to the floor, holding his head in his hands, a complete mess. Clearly failure had not been a possibility Ushao entertained.

"Now now. Your parents bribed World Government big shots to let them cart away some of Water 7's historical treasures and whatever was 'precious' to us, right?" said Franky, his reserve power supply (the cola power) beginning to drain as well. "I'm going to do you one better. I took something that was precious to the World Government, the very blueprints to an ancient weapon whose sheer power could rival Davy Jones's, and burned it in front of the forces of Dark Justice. Your juvenile little hobby club could never hope to measure up."

Ushao suddenly bubbled up into hysterical laughter. He had never felt nearly so low. Franky took it upon himself to lift up the poor sod and chuck him into the sea himself.

"My regards to Davy Jones! Or a sea king, whichever comes first!"

And Franky powered down, contented, (and unconscious until his crew came back to pour more cola into him).


	12. History Repeats Herself

**Chapter 12: History Repeats Herself**

Inside the Orb of Library.

"You're an historian too?" asked Robin. "Why would you want to kill me? This is your golden opportunity to gain as much information as you possibly can on the Ohara Incident, and the nature of the lost era!"

Tertullian did not show himself, instead hiding behind long sheets of parchment and unfurled scrolls hanging from the tops of the voluminous shelves. These were the documents and articles on ancient history that Tertullian had collected over almost sixty years, and now they no longer held any interest for him.

"You think you're so special, Nico Robin. But you're just a shade of the past, nothing more. You will wash away along with the rest of history. My only focus now is the future, Demon Child. I shall no longer merely 'record' history that is completely beyond my control. When the day is done, I will _create_ history!"

"Fool!" Robin seethed—this was one of her hugest pet peeves. You could call her the devil, you could malign her name and spread ill will towards her eons for all she cared. If she went down in history as a heartless assassin or even as an omnicidal maniac, she could live with that. But the moment you expressed antipathy towards the discipline of history, well then.

"You never understood what history is really about! It isn't about plotting 'destinies' or whatever such essentialist bilge you pseudo-historians are always spewing out! It's about keeping the pain and hardships of past generations alive in memory! Only then can we put an end to the cycle of human misery, spurred on by clueless morons like you, who never bothered to learn from the lessons history can teach us!"

"You think history can preserve you from pain, Demon Child? Is it not the opposite? See how your love of history will hurt you!" Tertullian began to topple the countless scrolls off the shelves, always hiding himself behind the endless cascading shower of parchment so that Robin couldn't get a bead on him.

"Coward! Kook!" Robin shouted, attempting to draw Tertullian out in the open, but Tertullian was far from perturbed by her words. Once he was a god-king and she was swallowed up by the sea, he would be proven correct, of course.

Robin could scarcely believe that somebody who'd taken the time to accumulate all these scrolls would ruin them like this without hesitation—and she was equally shocked when Tertullian started using his scrolls as weapons, one in each hand, to beat Robin over the head with distance attacks.

"You dare not damage these scrolls!" Tertullian crowed. "Some assassin you are, Nico Robin, with such an exploitable weakness!"

Robin grew two extra arms in order to parry his scroll attacks. However, every time she blocked an attack she sustained serious papercuts on each hand, injuries which were mirrored on her real hands and accumulated into a bloody criss-cross of gashes.

"So that's your power," Tertullian observed, exceedingly glad he chose to stay hidden. "Are you sure you want to keep blocking my attacks? You're shedding blood all over these precious documents!"

"Pain is history. Blood *is* history," stated Robin calmly, having secretly spread copies of her ears all over the ceiling to pinpoint his exact location. "And you're going to learn that the hard way. Trentas Fleur!" Thirty arms appeared on the falling parchments directly in front of Tertullian's hiding spot and she suffered massive damage across her arms grasping for him, but Tertullian, the lucky snake, managed to evade her deadly grip. If Robin could but touch Tertullian anywhere, she could deliver a nice clutch.

"Wehahahaha! See whose way is superior, Nico Robin! I, who looks to the future and plans ahead, or you who are mired in, nay, chained to the past!"

"You're the one who's chained, Tertullian," said Robin. "You aren't willing to give anything at all in exchange for learning the truth. That's the most pathetic intellectual state there is. You say you want to usher in a new era where superior beings rule, but that's a static world where nothing ever changes. Without change, without challenge, there can be no life. I'd say you'd be little more than zombies, but I've had more intelligent conversations with actual zombies."

"Shut your trap, woman!" said Tertullian. "How dare you speak to me like, like you know everything!"

Ah, the Idiocy Effect in action—the less a person knows, the more he thinks he knows.

"Well, you know what they say, Tertullian. In fact, it's the oldest saying in the book: No pain, no gain. Cientas Fleur!"

One hundred arms bloomed into existence over the hail of scrolls in Tertullian's general vicinity. The deep cuts were excruciating but this was not the worst pain she'd ever brushed up against, whereas Tertullian was flabbergasted anybody could subject themselves to such agony in defense of dusty old scrolls.

Finally one of her arms managed to touch Tertullian. From there, the rest, as they so often say, was history.

"Nooo—mmph. Rrmph!" When Robin carried out one of her infamous assassinations, she always muffled her victims first—the screams could get annoyingly blood-curdling since the spine was usually the first thing to _crunch_.

"Funny, I would have assumed you were spineless, too," said Robin coldly, and with zero mercy she ended his fool life. She had taught him a lesson in blood he wouldn't soon forget—in hell. "Say hi to the devil for me, and tell him he's met his match."

The first order of business was removing all of the fallen scrolls from the bastard's corpse, as he didn't deserve to be shrouded in history. Second in priority was stopping her free bleeding; Robin bandaged up her severely injured arms without a peep of pain using _The History of Tariff Protest in Fifth Century North Blue: An Overview of the Literature by Worcester Hyrum, _as well as_ The Proliferation of Trade Routes along the Whippor Whirlpool During the Silver Age of Discovery: 897 to 972._ She then pressed her bleeding hands against the glass-like transparent bubble of her orb, wondering how the rest of her crewmates were faring in their own battles. She quickly realized this was silly—of course they were okay. They were them. And one of them would find a way to break through these prisons. If she had learned anything from history, it was that when there was a will, there was a way, and the Straw Hat Pirates exemplified this with every madcap outing and every close scrape with death.

Robin therefore decided to occupy her time boning up on _An Examination of the Mass Mortuaries of Antiquity: Insights into the Clandestine Autopsy Practices of the Late Middle Renaissance of Medicine_. Ah, nostalgia.


	13. Subliminal Satan

**Chapter 13: Subliminal Satan**

"Yohohoho, so it was YOU who was the Satanist all along!" Brook seemed pleasantly surprised by this revelation, as though being a bona fide Satanist was a major improvement over the clean, family friendly image Tremain had managed to cultivate in his quest to win souls over to the Sea Devil.

Inside the Orb of Dirge, the sleazeball music mogul Tremain was rigging up his surround sound system.

"Ah! Sorry to disturb you, but don't tell me you're going to put on a track from one of your later albums!" said Brook. "Those songs are so… soporific, I believe is the word? Yohohohoho! If you would allow me to strum us up a suitably _radical_ tune, then this fight will be more fun for the both of us!"

Tremain had been amongst the most prominent of the many so-called "moral guardians" who sought to make a scapegoat out of Brook as his star rose to unprecedented heights in the music world. And he'd done everything in his power to end Brook's career, all to no avail. Now that endtimes were nigh, the man had abandoned his clean cut persona and let his gut hang.

"…Aren't you going to speak at all? Aren't rivals supposed to engage in witty repartee?"

"I am communing with the nether spirits, I need to concentrate," Tremain replied, plugging in and switching up all sorts of wires and cables Brook always left to his managers.

Brook nodded. "Ahh, nether spirits, of course. I understand." He didn't.

"They are the heralds of the neverending night, servitors to the Powers Primordial that shall raise us up and drown everything."

"Interesting lyrics. What do they mean?" asked Brook.

"It's the third verse of the Ode to the Underseer, composed by the Great Progenitor Kakisto himself," he said.

Brook's jaw dropped. "YOU MEAN YOU'RE AN _ACTUAL_ SATANIST! Scary, too scary! But… if you're a, a *Satanist* Satanist, what on earth were you up to when you were creating those albums!"

"Subliminal messaging," he explained. "Hidden messages picked up by the listener on a hidden level he's not aware of, and secretly manipulating his thinking. Ever since you showed up on the scene out of nowhere, all the most rebellious and insubordinate sectors of society started shedding their indoctrination and began questioning authority. This was not acceptable, as the Powers Primordial foretell of a degenerate world of mindless slaves and puppets of the Celestial Dragons just before the coming of the end. And since our Prioress has foreseen the vanquishing of the sun during her reign, it was my job to make sure the preconditions of the prophecy came to fruition."

"…That's really dumb. You can't manipulate minds through music—you can only inspire them! Yohohohohoho!"

"Your hubris ends tonight." Tremain sat down at his drum set and prepped his sticks.

"Excellent, you're manning the percussion–so you're going to play material from your earlier, more upbeat albums!"

"May the most powerful music prevail," said Tremain. "This battle is on."

Brook started up a rousing rendition of one of his latest hits, "Bone Star," on his guitar, but Tremain countered every note with its opposite, having memorized his mortal enemy's every ditty.

"Augh! How is it possible for a percussion instrument to sound so drab and flat! So lifeless and sterile! Have you no joy, man!"

"Music is calculated, a formula for mind warping. All 'joy' is either incidental or illusory." Tremain pounded on his drums in a prescribed rhythm without a modicum of enjoyment, he was merely going through the motions to defeat his enemy.

"No! Music is in the heart as well as the brain! Even though I have neither! Take this! My show stopping number, Bone to Be Wild!"

But of course Tremain, an expert at imparting dread and apathy with his music, could counter each of these notes too, and the piercing mechanical beat rattled Brook so bad it felt like his bones would crumble into dust. Brook had to play something Tremain didn't know, something upbeat and criminally catchy.

"I know! I'll improvise!"

"Hmmph! You could never come up with a good enough song straight off the top of your head!"

"Oh, have you noticed the top of my head? I put a lot of effort maintaining it but I can't tell you how many combs I've lost! Yohoho…ho…" But it was no use, the awful dirge was draining his willpower and personality.

The heart…

Yes! Of course! Love was the answer! Brook had heard that very lesson from countless songs, and his life was testament enough of its veracity. So Brook took a deep breath and drew on his love for his crew, and played. The tune was tiny at first, barely audible, but then Brook remembered Laboon and began to sing, not even knowing what he was singing but words beautiful and uplifting enough to cause him to tear up. And he remembered his fans, all those aimless people in whom he lit the spark of life, and the song swelled to a roaring crescendo which broke the barriers dividing society and drew every human being together as one—even a skeleton like him was accepted in this space!

It was without a doubt the best song Tremain had ever heard. And it would never be played again.

"Take my hand, partner," Brook sang. "I accept you as you, not as some hypothetical future you I can mold! I brushed against your heart, felt it pulse, and I know deep down you're a good person! Yohohohohohohohoho!"

Tremain was blubbering now. He wanted to take his hand. He wanted a new life, not as a god, but as a man amongst men. But that would be admitting he was wrong all this time. Could he bear it? What would the demons do to him!

"If you take my hand I'll give you my autograph."

Sold!


	14. Fasmidi Falls

**Chapter 14: Fasmidi Falls**

"Spit it out pirate. I've got all night."

Fasmidi dunked Luffy an eighth time, and pulled. Luffy tried hitting her with a wave of haki once more, but each time he tried it grew weaker and she grew more and more acclimated.

She shook his head so the water poured out of his ears. "The D. What is it."

"I told you, I don't know what the D. stands for!" said Luffy.

"Look, I get it. You're trying to safeguard the destiny of the D. But like I said, the sun ain't coming up, sunshine."

Luffy grinned. "You're crazy, lady. I have no idea what you're talking about. Even Usopp makes more sense than you, when he's sleep talking!"

"Ugh, I should probably go kill that pet of yours or something, bet that'd make you sing like a canary. Never mind, knowing Jamal it's probably already being stuffed."

"Now I know you're nuts," said Luffy between gasps. "You think any of my crew could die so easy? You're so dumb."

"They are marked by the Underseer, I saw the sign of death hovering over them," she retorted, tracing her fingers around Luffy's heaving X. "Much like their captain."

"Blah blah blah Underwear, blah blah blah destiny," Luffy imitated her dulcet voice and hazy eyes. "To think I wanted you on my crew, puh. Liked you better as a bug than as a person!"

Luffy stuck out his tongue at her, but she grabbed it.

"I ought to rip this tongue out altogether," she said.

That was not a smart move on her part. As anyone who knew Luffy understood right away, his most powerful muscles were not in his arms or legs.

"YAAH!" she shrieked, but Luffy just chomped harder. And she couldn't transform to get away.

It had been a while, years since Fasmidi felt such agony. And the fact that Luffy was no longer rubber only made it worse. He smiled when he felt the blood trickling under his tongue. Fasmidi pried her finger out pushing against her elbow, and Luffy swiped back his hat and kicked her off of him. He was back in business.

Fasmidi tried jumping off the platform so she could transform in midair before she touched the water, but Luffy was expecting this and kicked her down hard, cornering her against her own contraption.

They were both depowered, both fairly exhausted, but both still strong as hell.

Fasmidi's respect for him grew; she almost forgot about the Sacrifice Scheme and desired only to best this worthy opponent in fair and honorable combat. But Luffy was less than interested in prolonging the fight—he had better things to do.

Luffy concentrated and activated his Color of Observation haki in full force, which allowed him to dodge and block her superior martial arts. Fasmidi may have had her back against a wall, but Luffy had his back against a pool of seawater.

"Could we please just skip to the part where I beat you up?" said Luffy. "Even if you manage to hit me I'll just draw up my haki armor. There's nothing you can do. Let's just get out of here."

Fasmidi laughed softly. She stamped the floor, causing the whole structure of the dome to shake. Luffy stumbled forwards. She was trying to tip him over the edge.

Luffy clocked her in the jaw and swept her legs out form under her. "It's over," he said. "I win."

"It… it—"

"It can't be?" Luffy didn't know how many times he'd heard that line. "It is what it is," he shrugged. "Just accept it and let's move on."

Fasmidi looked up at him in true disbelief. "You're not going to kill me?"

Luffy crossed his arms impatiently. "Would you just shut up already!"

Fasmidi crawled towards the edge of the water. Luffy tracked her warily.

She looked at her reflection. "I'm ugly." The tears distorted her image. "Without my Fruit I'm ugly."

She dipped one arm into the water and gulped. "The only place I'll have my Fruit once more… is in the water. Isn't that right, Davy Jones?" she sobbed.

"Your name is Davy Jones?" asked Luffy. "Where have I heard that name before…"

Fasmidi chuckled. "Defeated by a complete idiot. Is this what you want for me, God? You want to me to sacrifice myself to make him king. That's what the D. means."

She could feel the Sea Devil's favor, her drug, slip away from her.

"THE D. DOESN'T MEAN ANYTHING!" Luffy repeated for the bajillionth time, all pretense of patience abandoned. "What is this nonsense, 'sacrifice yourself,' what _for?_ Just stop being a bad guy. Better yet, just be a bug. You were cool as a bug. Oh yeah, but before that could you please turn off the weather machine and lead me out of here? I need my crew back."

Fasmidi almost fainted, but Luffy used his haki to _revive_ her.

"C'mon, lady!" Luffy turned her over to her back. "Why would you want to die? Is there someone you need to protect or something?" Luffy's eyes danced all over the dome but he couldn't see or sense anybody else. "It's another bug, isn't it? I promise not to touch your bug. You happy now?"

"Now who's not making sense…" she said, looking absently at her hand.

Luffy ruffled his hair in frustration—these were two entities who simply could not understand each other. "What's wrong with your BRAIN!" he steamed. "Okay, how about this: to the spoiler go the wins!"

The constant breeze popped Luffy's hat off and it settled around his neck.

Fasmidi laughed in spite of herself. "You are a strange, strange animal, Monkey D. Luffy. You're right. To the spoiler, go the wins."

_The annual sideshow, held at the fairgrounds around the outskirts of one of the poorer towns of Fasmidi's princessdom. Fasmidi was just fifteen, frail and sickly and typically confined to her castle. Her Highness was always admonished not to sneak out, but on the day of the sideshow in particular they drilled into her head the acute danger of any excursion she might fancy taking—there were bound to be shady characters galore at any such lower-class festival, and who knew what intentions (and what diseases) they carried around, with their swinish unrefined faces and strange accents._

_But Fasmidi didn't mind them. They looked like the people in the photos of her medical books. To her they seemed harmless, like bugs under a magnifying glass. She didn't even mind the smell—anything was better than the septic sting of her bedroom, where even the books were not allowed to gather a single speck of dust._

_To her disappointment, the curios and mysterious objects on display at the various venders' tents were mostly unchanged from the year before; it really did seem as though these were things no one wanted. She was about ready to call it quits and head back to the castle when something peculiar caught her eye._

_She clapped her hands to her mouth in surprise. Right there in plain sight, at an unmanned tent no less, a Devil Fruit. _"DISPLAY ONLY."

_Her mind reeled with possibilities. It could confer any power under the heavens, but rob her of the entire ocean in exchange._

_It would change her life forever, make her strong. She wanted it desperately._

"_Hey miss, haven't seen you around," said a nine-year-old boy. "My name's Remy, what's yours?"_

_Fasmidi declined taking the commoner's hand. "Remy? You don't happen to know what kind of fruit this is, do you?"_

"_Oh, that's a Devil Fruit," said Remy, picking his nose. "Don't touch it, it's against the law."_

_Fasmidi pressed on undeterred. "Do you happen to know what sort of Devil Fruit it is?" she asked as politely as she could._

"_No miss, the adults don't know either. It was recently discovered so they thought they'd showcase it for natives who have never seen a Fruit before shipping overseas for study."_

_It was going to be gone soon. No, no, no, it had to be hers. She pondered getting her family to butt in and acquire the Fruit, but then it occurred to her that the commoners' plan must have been given her estate's approval. Which meant her parents had kept her in the dark. Her heart sank; they'd never let her take it home, let alone eat it._

"_But I wonder if I could just… hold it in my hands…" Fasmidi couldn't help herself, she swiped the Fruit from the stall and marveled at it._

"_No miss, you mustn't-!"_

_To her horror and delight, she took a bite._

_Zoan Fruits were different from other types. With Logia and Paramecia types, you didn't feel all that different after first consuming the curse. Fasmidi, on the other hand, felt a wonderful rush of vitality and superhuman strength coursing through her body, leaving not a trace of her weak constitution behind. She was born again._

_She felt weightless, like she was floating. The heaviness of the fruit in her hand all but vanished. The only downside was the terrible taste, but maybe if she kept eating she would obtain even more power?_

_Remy stood dumbfounded, speechless, as Fasmidi hungrily devoured the Fruit._

"_Hey, what's going on over there? Who's that?" One of the adults wandered over from the crowd gathered at the sideshow and gasped when he recognized her. He fell to his knees and bowed. "My lady!"_

_Fasmidi thought fast. "Shhh, I don't want it to be a big fuss but Remy took a bite of this Devil Fruit."_

"_He did WHAT!"_

"_I did WHAT!"_

_Fasmidi winked at Remy. "Don't worry though, it's definitely a fake. I've read a million medical books and I can tell the grooves on the skin are all off. I just had Remy confirm it. So please don't punish him!"_

"…_But we had been told the Fruit was definitely real," he answered, still bowing._

"_Who was this man? He must be a charlatan." Uh oh. Was she really doing this? Was she really sentencing an innocent scholar? It was too late now._

"_You're certain you don't feel anything, Remy?"_

"_N-no… nothing."_

"_It's a fake," Fasmidi repeated. "Perhaps the man was merely mistaken?" she back-peddled._

"_No," the man shook, hands balling into fists. "He's a professor and he assured us… but they say he's got connections to the insurgency."_

"_The insurgency" is how the media painted the revolutionary movement in its early years._

"_Remy," she said after the adult had gone to tell the others, "Imagine how cool everyone will think you are after this. The princess watched you bravely partake of a Devil Fruit!"_

_Remy immediately perked up at this._

"_Go on now, tell all your friends." She pushed him off on his merry. "It tasted _really_ bad, didn't it?"_

_And so Fasmidi got away with it. Easily._

_She was ecstatic._

_The next morning she discovered that one Professor Archibald Yeats was imprisoned without trial for "willful deception of the crown," a crime that was increasingly trotted out against so-called insurgents all over the world. Her demeanor sank from sunny to dejected in record time._

_There was no way she could come clean, the stain on her household would be immense, unbearable. Her parents were already angry that she'd snuck out and pulled that stunt in the first place. But now she knew a man who had done no wrong had been thrown behind bars, because of her._

_It was she who deserved to be jailed, not the hapless professor._

_But no, wait. He was conspiring with insurgents, she reasoned. There must have been a reason she escaped punishment, and she felt so great—surely she deserved it after falling sick so often since she was born._

_This was meant to be. She was ordained by God. Now she was a higher class of human, even higher than princess or queen. She was so strong her dainty hands could crush beach rocks into sand, and though she hadn't tried it yet she was sure she could cause the earth to shake by stomping hard enough. Her might made right._

Luffy emerged from belowdecks lugging Fasmidi under one arm and dropped her unceremoniously on the floorboards.

The storm was letting up and the Orbs stopped circling around the Kakisto. He could sense everyone was okay. "Phew!"

There was a sea king behind him. He turned around.

"Whoa! A sea king with a hat!"

The bell on top of the submarine strapped to the sea king's head chimed, calling forth the other two, which surrounded him and danced like it was dinner time.

Luffy simply raised up his hand. "Heel."

The sea kings obeyed.

"Shishishishishishi."


	15. A Time to Tell Tales

**Chapter 15: A Time to Tell Tales**

Kurt couldn't utter a peep. The storm had dissipated and Luffy was holding his gigantic sea kings at bay.

"Not too shabby, eh Kurt?" Sanji grinned. "Greatest anguish so far? No smokes. So much for your momentous revenge."

The feeling was returning to Sanji's extremities. The nerve effect was wearing off.

"You know Kurt," Sanji continued. "I could go into how you're mistaken about all of this. How Zeff turned out to be all right for a shitty geezer, or what happened after we were shipwrecked and starved. It wouldn't do a lick of good though. You think you're some pawn in a cosmic game of chicken, and this absurd vendetta you cooked up's been your only fuel for years now.

"But like I said earlier, you've proven you can adapt. From almost a decade stranded with no human companionship or sense of taste, to the rough-hewn but well-respected world-class chef with whom anybody who's anybody in the business has met and clinked wine glasses. Adaptability, that's all you need to get by in life. In love."

"No…" said Kurt, dazed. "It's all just luck…"

"You said it yourself, Kurt: You can reverse your luck. Besides, it's not as though there's only just bad luck or good luck. Two years ago my crew and I were roundly defeated. But if that hadn't happened, we wouldn't have gained the opportunity to become stronger heading for the New World. Even I got something out of it, and the place I got stuck with was, well, not the highest on the list of places I wanted to visit. Life gives you lemons… you make All Blue fishcakes."

Kurt plopped on a chair and did something he hadn't done since the Night of the Storm.

He wept.

Kurt had made plenty of connections, but only in the superficial sense. It never even occurred to him to establish new bonds of the heart.

"I'm so lucky to have met you," he realized. "And I… I squandered the chance… I'm sorry," he cried. "I'M SORRY!"

"It's going to take a while to heal," said Sanji. "You don't have to apologize to me, just make the most out of life and you'll make me happy." Sanji started crying too. "I'm so lucky to have met you. I know now someone else survived."

"I'm ruined," laughed Kurt. "The guilt is too much."

"A race," proposed Sanji. "Whoever finds All Blue first, wins. You find All Blue first, you'll have made up for tonight in spades. I find All Blue first, I don't know, I'll kick you in the face; with my luck it'll probably only restore your taste buds though. Understood?"

Kurt stared at the kitchen floor, flabbergasted at Sanji's generosity. He was giving Kurt a provisional reason to live. He didn't resent him at all.

Sanji cleared his throat and tapped his foot. "Understood?"

"Clear as day," said Kurt. The sun was rising again.

"All right. Do you reckon your sea kings could crush those orbs or what? I'd go saving the day yet again but uh, I'm not exactly bolting out of this chair anytime soon."

* * *

><p>Sanji took a long puff. "Luck was a lady tonight," he explained.<p>

"Whah?" said Nami.

Sanji closed his eyes. "Nami-swan. Robin-chwan. Tonight I saw my life flash before my very eyes. Tonight I learned the true value of life once more. And I won't waste it." Another puff. "I feel ought to celebrate this epiphany with the people I love the most. Could you kindly allow me into your bed cabin later—"

"NO!" Nami smacked his head into his plate of All Blue (sans alfalfla).

"…and bring you some tea," he finished, hearts for eyes and nose bleeding for more than one reason.

"Oh. Sorry Sanji." Nami casually continued consuming her dish without another word. She and Robin were still dressed in overcoats.

"Yohohoho! I would have said to see her pan—"

This time it was Luffy who clobbered Brook, from across the table.

"Luffy!" Nami cooed affectionately. "You care about my honor!"

"Nah, I just thought it would be funny if I did it this time."

"Yohohohohoho! Harsh but fair!"

"Chopper, you good to eat by yourself man?" asked Usopp.

"If anything I recovered quicker than Sanji," he reassured him. "I'm more worried about Robin, those arms really made me wince."

"Thanks for your concern, Chopper," smiled Robin, leaning her head against a bandaged arm. "Don't worry, I've been through worse and gained fewer scrolls to show for it."

Zoro took a little sip of his rum. "I could have sliced her up better," he said.

"SHUT UP WITH THAT ALREADY!" Usopp and Sanji smacked him upside the head. Luffy clutched his bloated belly and guffawed.

"Guys, not to brag but I really want to tell you how awesome I did," said Franky. "I scrapped those stupid robots so fast they couldn't even ruin the coating, let alone Sunny herself!"

"Hey, hey Chopper, wasn't it totally kickass when I juggled Jamal like he weighed nothing?" said Usopp, glancing in Zoro's direction. "Right!"

Luffy enthusiastically pounded the table with his fork and knife. "STORY TIME! STORY TIME!" Brook naturally joined in. "STORY TIME! STORY TIME!"

"Sheesh. If you're going to keep banging on the table like that then no one can tell their stories," pouted Nami; she really wanted to tell hers too.

Sanji looked out through the dining room window at the fish darting about underwater. Finally, the next leg of their adventure. Sanji couldn't help but reminisce. The Baratie, Zeff, Krieg, Luffy, Nami, Arlong… Mohmoo…

Mohmoo?

As luck would have it.

The sea cow's head bobbed closer and closer, tied to a too-likely-hostile ship.

Sanji stood up. "Afraid this isn't the time to tell tales, my friends! This is a time to MAKE them!"

**FIN**


End file.
